


Tempest of Blood Poetry

by BulletStrong



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Swan Queen - Freeform, assassin’s creed au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletStrong/pseuds/BulletStrong
Summary: Emma Swan, a rebel assassin of the Brotherhood, is set on destroying the Templars, a criminal organization spearheaded by Robert Gold, but she gets much more than she bargained for when she’s tasked with protecting Regina Mills, a wealthy former employee of Gold. Swan Queen.*No knowledge of the video games required*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies! So I really got into the AC series not long ago and I needed to do a Swan Queen AU, just for the sake of my sanity. I have about 5 chapters written. I’m not sure how long it’ll be, but subscribe for updates! I hope you enjoy :)

The train station bursting into flames and crumbling under the explosion rocketing through its infrastructure makes Emma smirk under her heavy hood from her. A loss of this magnitude will surely stunt Templar leader, Robert Gold, but the knowledge that this would finally strike some fear in that straggly old man made her assassin heart pitter-patter with glee.

Gold and his gang of miscreants have had London under their thumb for well over a decade and her brotherhood simply shrugged their shoulders and deemed the situation too far gone and dangerous to get themselves involved, but Emma Swan was anything but afraid, especially of that short, loathe-some man. So she left France, where the Templars were severely shackled by an assassin named Arno almost a century earlier, and hopped on the first train to London despite strict orders not to do so.

She couldn’t simply sit around, munch on croissants, and shoot the breeze while her brothers and sisters in London were getting their asses handed to them because of rules and regulations.

In France, the Templars were seeking peace during the revolution but their means were questionable and lacked any honor. They killed innocents, threatened business owners, and coerced citizens into aiding them out of fear of retribution. In every essence, the Templars became a bloodthirsty gang that wanted full control of both the criminal underworld and the government.

In London, the Templars aren’t hiding behind a message of peace. They’re simply profiting off the lack of criminal organizations in the area. There weren’t any bosses to discard of, no fighting for territory, no strong police presence to ward them off, and the citizens were begging for protection from petty thievery and they offered their services at a price, which has become a source of bribery and coercion for cooperation.

Londoners were now begging for salvation from this ruthless money-hungry organization, but with Robert Gold as the head of the monster, the assassin’s decided they had nothing to gain from such a treacherous mission, which didn’t sit well with Emma. She pledged to the creed years ago because she believed it was her chance to help others in the only way she knew how, and the refusal to answer the pleas of the citizens of London went against everything Emma thought this brotherhood was supposed to be.

Like Arno, she just may be denounced from the brotherhood for her insubordination, but if she can free this city from Golds grip then she’ll gladly take the reprimand. She doesn’t need the Creed. She has the heart and soul of an assassin and will continue to do what she thinks is right with or without them.

Over the last few weeks, she’s slowly dismantled some of Golds wealthy businesses and taken out a handful of his top advisors and gang leaders. Cruella DeVil, head of drug distribution, lead her to Mal Cent, a woman that ran a stronghold in Westminster, and so on and so forth. The drug trade was stunted by Emma’s continuous boat raids and cargo hijacks but severely undercut when she kidnapped Jefferson Wonder, the kooky doctor that created and sold a hallucinogenic drug to the Templars.

Jacob and Evie Frye, twin assassins with the same goal as Emma, managed to slowly free children from factory labor, collect infamous Templars for police bounties, and forge friendships with well-known men and women in the city, like Charles Darwin, Karl Marx, and Doctor Bell. While they caused public chaos, Emma would sneak around the shadows undetected. From what she’s been told by the twins, Gold is solely focused on them and seems unaware of her presence in the city.

Though that may change tonight, Emma ponders off-handedly as a burst of white flames flashes from the side of the station. Her mouth curls upward. The twins were off searching for a corrupt politician and won’t be anywhere near this, so Gold will most likely connect the dots and realize he has more enemies than he bargained for.

With a satisfied sigh, Emma climbs down from her perch on the metal fence lining the train tracks and heads away from her successful operation. With this train station and Gold’s personal locomotive literally up in flames, the Templars will be scrambling to salvage their stock in transport and focus on auto-buses and carriages as their main line of income.

So Emma has to find a way to undercut those too, which shouldn’t be too hard since she overheard two lackeys mention that a man named Victor Whale owns the company Gold now employs for auto-bus manufacturing. Apparently Gold had a falling out with his previous manufacturer and coldly cut that company from his contacts. The former employee may be the key to finding Mister Whale and taking this industry back.

Emma files away this line of thinking and quickly runs toward a sparsely populated street a few blocks away from the explosion. A single carriage is slowly traveling along it so she quietly sidles up and slips into it, plopping down on the velvet covered seats and sinking low so the driver doesn’t suspect anything.

The Frye train usually passes through the City of London’s east station at midnight so she has to cross the Thames and bolt through a few districts in under an hour. Luckily the carriage takes a right near Big Ben and starts crossing the river so she doesn’t have to book it across the bridge on foot.

She peers through the back window of the carriage and swallows a chuckle at the fire carriages racing toward the direction of Gold’s Westminster station. She enjoys blowing things to smithereens just a tad too much, but it really works with her line of business.

Once they’re across the bridge, she slyly slips from the carriage and rolls onto the pavement, coming to stand after bracing her impact on the cobblestone. She deploys her zip line toward the rooftops and allows the device to lift her to the edge. Roofs are her preferred method of traveling. Hardly any Templars to spot her, snipers are usually pretty easy to take down if she does come across one, and she avoids any and all traffic.

The station is empty apart from the Frye train so she throws her hood back and unbuttons her thick black cloak as she makes her way toward her temporary home. The long locomotive roars to life just as she walks through the opening at the back of the third unit from the conductor.

There, she finds the eldest of the Frye twins pining a photo of a man to their so-called “assassination board”. A piece of red string is connecting their recent kill to a large portrait of Gold.

“So Jacob got Doctor Elliotson?” Emma asks as she saunters up to Evie, a tall, beautiful woman with silky black hair and vibrant blue eyes framed by adorable freckles.

“Indeed.” Evie shakes her head, though, as she marks a thick red X across the photo of Elliotson. “He was sloppy in his endeavors and nearly got himself killed, and the fine doctor didn’t have much to share.”

“Well, at least the ‘soothing syrup’ drug will be off the market and that maniac’s testing on human subjects is finito.”

“His luck will run out, Miss Swan.” Evie’s expression hardens as she speaks. This has been a source of fiction between the English siblings lately. Evie sees Jacob as impulsive and rash and Jacob thinks Evie isn’t doing enough to undercut the Templars. She tries not to take sides because a) she’s a combination of the the two and taking a side feels unsavory and b) she likes them both quite a lot and doesn’t want to lose either partnership.

“Cut him some slack, Evie. He acts before he thinks, sure, but he’s trying and his skills are up to snuff.” Emma nods toward the gangs’ accountant sitting at her desk in the corner in greeting and misses the small eye roll her comment elicits from the older twin.

“Well, enough of my brother.” Evie eagerly turns to her. “What trouble did you find yourself in tonight? Anything good?”

Emma takes pleasure in describing every detail of her mission and its success, and Evie unleashes a mega-watt smile that’s usually reserved for her friend and fellow assassin Henry Green.

“Oh, Gold is going to be inconsolable! He and his betrothed were living there, you know?” Evie’s smile tones down to a minuscule grin. “The sweetness of victory quickly fades, however. What’s next for you?”

“Well, I’ve got the name of an associate in the bus business.” Emma calls to the gang member speaking to the accountant, “Agnes!”

The plump woman startles at the booming voice but waddles over to the female assassins as quickly as she can. Her thick English accent rings loudly through the railcar. “What‘d you want, Swan?”

“Ever heard of a Victor Whale?” Emma asks.

Agnes’ eyes light up. “Oh yes, of course! He worked at the asylum until Nightingale discovered he was testing on those wee children in her care. Rumor has it he went crawling to Gold for a job and worked out of an auto-bus factory in White Chapel until he got promoted. Last I heard he was running the Gold Standard Bus Company from its headquarters down in Lambeth.”

“So who ran Gold’s company before Whale?” Evie asks, intrigued and possibly planning something.

“Well Gold’s company has only been up and running for a few months!” Agnes informs them. “Before that, though, there was a lady that ran a company in the city that Gold employed. I suppose their relationship went sour.”

Evie throws Emma a smirk. “Sour relationships are ripe for betrayal, Swan.”

“Yeah, now I just have to find her.” Emma snorts. Once criminal masterminds lose their spotlight and business, they tend to disappear. She can only hope this one—

“Her name is Regina Mills!” Agnes throws over her shoulder as she pours herself a cup of chamomile. “She lives in Westminster, became quite wealthy after her parents’ demise. I was told her mother started the business and left it to her daughter.”

Emma takes a seat on the couch across from the assassination board. She puzzles together a plausible angle to exploit the bitter end between Gold and this Regina Mills before asking the last crucial question. “Her business... is it still up and running?”

Agnes squints contemplatively. “I think so. I still see some of her buses with that strange black and white apple tree design chugging around, though they’re harder to find now that Gold and Whale have started their own venture.”

Evie caps the red lipstick she used to mark Elliotson’s photo as she smirks at Emma knowingly. “So what trouble will you be up to, Swan?”

With a lavish chuckle, Emma winks and smartly replies, “I’ll be extending Miss Mills an offer she’d be insane to refuse.”

~|SQ|~

It’s by pure luck that Emma spots a black and white bus engulfed in flames the very next morning as she’s heading toward the vendor near Buckingham Palace to restock on throwing knives and smoke bombs. She jogs away from her original destination and slides into the rowdy crowd, blending in, to watch the event unfold. If the rumor spreading through the rabble has any merit, this has become a common occurrence as of late.

“Gold isn’t very subtle.” Emma whispers to herself. She tugs the edge of her hood down so it covers more of her face. The police are creating a perimeter around the flaming auto but her attention is snagged by a petite woman in an expensive-looking purple and black dress thumping her fists against one officers chest.

“This is Robert Gold’s handiwork!” The feisty brunette bellows, but her tantrum is ignored by law enforcement, which is to be expected. The cops in London are either terrified of Gold or secretly working for him. So much for law and order, huh?

“That claim is unsubstantiated, Miss Mills.” The cop drawls lazily, But Emma gasps at the coincidence. She squints at elegant woman now curling her fingers around the leather lapels of the officers dark blue coat. The brunette was of average height but her tenacity and flair made her presence looming.

Those dark brown eyes were overflowing with frustration and irritation and her cheeks bore a healthy shade of pink. The woman’s lips were full, accentuated by a small scar on the top lip, and her skin was a glowing tan. Emma blinks owlishly as she steps through the throngs of people to get closer to the commotion. So Regina Mills, in the flesh... beautiful, smooth, luscious flesh. Emma shakes her head. Not now libido, down girl!

“You know as well as I do that he’s behind this!” Emma hears that feminine growl over the rumbling of the crowd and smirks, knowing this fiery woman could be an asset to the assassins if Emma can convince her to join their side. She barely catches the cop shaking his head but still clearly hears the woman’s angered voice. “Why must you all be so incompetent!”

Regina’s practically shaking with frustration at this point and Emma really can’t blame her. Gold is successfully sabotaging her business and law enforcement is clearly playing a blind eye.

She looks over at the auto that’s slowly being extinguished. It’s a two-decker painted white with a black apple tree silhouette carved into each side. The stark design seems fitting for the woman that owns it. Both are severe, elegant, and stand out among a crowd.

Unsurprisingly, the confrontation between Miss Mills and the officer lasts another ten minutes, with the officer staring into the distance with disinterest and the petite woman wagging her fist toward her flaming vehicle. Despite the tense atmosphere, Emma can’t help but smirk at the public show of attitude and strength from such a small woman. Though, the longer the stands in this crowd in traditional assassin getup, the more she worries this waiting game could spoil her anonymity. She self consciously tugs down on her hood and rubs the leather vest and silk undershirt covering her torso.

Then she sees Mills turn on her heel with a huff and stomp away toward a stationary carriage down the block.

“Bingo.” Emma whispers under her breath as she slides through the crowd toward the purple horse-drawn carriage Mills is slipping into. Just as the driver whips the reigns on the horses’ buttock, Emma jumps up and grabs ahold of the edged roof, hanging loosely from the back of the vehicle as it starts rolling away from the roaring fire carriages and bellowing police officers.

As she hangs there, her fingers burning under the strain, she ponders her next move. If she slips into the carriage right now, Mills could have her removed and she wouldn’t have any way to find the brunette, but if she holds out and sees where this ride is taking them, she could get an address or, at the very least, a location where Mills likes to visit.

So she drops onto the large chest attached to the lower part of the back of the carriage and sits on the sturdy wood, but the ride only lasts about ten minutes before they come to a hard stop in front of a three-story building in the swankiest part of Westminster.

The carriage bounces as Mills steps out. “You may go, Sydney.”

“I can keep you company if you wish—“

“There’s absolutely no need for that.” Regina replies dryly, like she’s declined this exact request one too many times. Emma takes that momentary distraction to hop off the carriage and sneakily tip-toe toward the alley right next to the building, out of sight of Mills and her driver. While the driver, a toned and arguably quite handsome dark skinned man, attempts to convince Mills that he should stay, Emma leans heavily against the brick wall of the building and allows her body to relax so her mind can hone in on its surroundings.

The unique abilities bestowed upon her by the brotherhood during her induction bursts from within her chest and everything goes dark, a midnight blue, but she can clearly see the body heat that belongs to Mills and the driver through the wall. Their bodies are bright red against the dark backdrop of the non-living. She peeks into the Mills residence and sees no sign of body heat, and sighs in relief. She won’t have to knock out any security guards when she sneaks into the home.

Her eagle vision, as the leaders of the brotherhood call it, slowly fades and colors pop back as her sight returns to normal. The two agitated voices from the sidewalk gradually return too and Emma leans closer to the corner of the building to eavesdrop.

“Mister Glass, you have two options. You either cease your attempts to romance me and you keep your job or you continue and end up unemployed. Which would you prefer?”

Well... damn. Emma winces at the frigid response, but perhaps it’s deserved. Men can be quite persistent when the situation doesn’t call for it. Miss Mills obviously shows no romantic interest in her driver but her frustrated and sarcastic responses lead Emma to believe this man has been shot down several times only to come back and hound his employer all over again. In that case, the brunette is being quite gracious. Emma would’ve slit his throat by now.

Sydney clears his throat and, because his tone, Emma can almost picture the glare he must be giving. “As you wish, Madame. Enjoy your cozy, solitary evening,” She hears the reins snap against the horse and peeks around the corner to see the driver purse his lips as the horses neigh and spring forward. Then, just as the wheels turn, Sydney angrily adds, “and existence.”

Mills squawks indignantly as the carriage flies down the block. By the red tint shading Mills’ cheeks, Emma can tell Mister Glass is going to regret being born when this woman gets her hands on him.

Mills swivels on her heels and stomps, somehow elegantly, to her front door. Once the brunette is locked away in her home, Emma starts casing the place and notices an open window on the third floor. It’s not open wide enough for her to enter through yet but if she shoves it open with a nice push, it could be a perfectly acceptable entry point. The backyard is large and pretty peaceful with its bird bath, metal tables and chairs, and the small waterfall in the left corner, but there’s no entry points. The back door is bolted closed and the windows are all shut—she tugs on the lower level window and it doesn’t budge—and locked.

The only feasible way into the home is the third floor window in the front, which wouldn’t be too hard to reach, not for her, but it may garner too much attention during the daytime. So she hurries toward her supplier to restock on knives and hallucinogenic darts and nabs a new black cloak with small yellow accents on the lapels. Why is she purchasing new digs for this encounter? Yeah, she’s just not going to think about that, because she’s pretty sure pure infatuation is at fault and she knows better than to let emotion control her. From day one it was drilled into her head that assassins should never allow anything, especially relationships and feelings, to interfere with the mission.

She shakes off these thoughts as she scales the front of Mills’ building. It’s dark and prying eyes are safely tucked into their homes but she still scrambles to reach the open window for fear of getting caught by a straggler, or worse, a lackey of Golds patrolling.

Grunting under her breath, she latches on to the windowsill and peeks into the room. There are candles lining what to seems to be the master bedroom and the warm glow allows her to see Regina Mills, clad in a medium-length silk night gown, sitting on a rocking chair on the other side of the room. The glasses perched on her nose wiggle as she reads the novel sitting on her lap.

Emma quietly climbs through the widow and soundlessly plants her feet on the dark hardwood of the bedroom. She pauses, arms held outward tensely, but Regina doesn’t look her way or make any move to get up. Instead, the brunette flips to the next page in her book and rubs her pointer finger across her chin, as if in deep contemplation.

Emma tip-toes closer to the rocking chair, which is squeaking just loudly enough to cover the sound of her soft footfalls, but her movement is severed when the rocking chair suddenly flies in her direction and connects painfully with her shin.

She grunts as she kneels into a protective stance, her hands hovering over her face in case any other projectiles soar at her, to see Regina Mills holding a dagger—where the hell did that come from?—as her posture stiffens defensively.

“I may be a lady of class but I am by no means afraid of striking you down where you stand!” The petite brunette growls authoritatively and lunges a bit closer, so threatening and imposing in her stance and tone that even Emma, a battered orphan turned honorable assassin, flinches at the sight.

“Easy there, tiger!” Emma finds herself pleading despite the fact she could take this woman down with the bat of an eyelash. “I come in peace!”

The thick book the woman had been reading flies out of Regina’s hand and thuds against Emma’s shoulder as the brunette extends the dagger toward her with a dark chuckle, “Peace? I find that quite hard to believe, for some reason! Perhaps it’s because you followed me from Vincent Square, or because you scaled my home to crawl through my window and sneak up on me, or perhaps it’s because you walk perfectly fine yet I spot a cane sticking out from beneath your cloak, which I would bet has a blade hidden in the handle. Take you pick, thief!”

Emma raises her hands in surrender and nods in acquiescence. “Fair points, but I’m speaking the truth when I say I mean you no harm. Quite the opposite actually.”

Regina seems to take a second to seize her up, her eyes scanning her non-threatening posture and luxurious threads, before she nods succinctly. “Well, get on with it before I change my mind.”

Emma starts with the name she knows will spark intrigue. “Gold.” Regina predictably straightens, her eyes squinting. “He’s a thorn in our side and he’s slowly crushing London under his domineering little thumb.”

“That’s a fair assessment, thief, but he’s unstoppable at this point. He has too much influence.” Regina scoffs, “For all I know, you could be working for him and luring me into some elaborate trap of his.”

Emma holds back an eye roll, staring at the flaming candle resting on the bed side table instead of the irritation-filled brown eyes of the defensive beauty before her. Subconsciously, she’s already casing the inside of the place, taking note of the bed against the far wall adjacent to the one lined with packed bookcases and the large quantity of candles lit around the room that are setting quite a peaceful ambiance.

She’s not exactly sure how to reassure Mills that she isn’t working for Gold, so she ends up bragging about her most recent attack. “Did you hear about his beloved train?” Regina’s eyes narrow slightly but she nods. “That was all me.” Regina’s eyes blow wide and Emma smirks triumphantly. “I snuck into the station last night and burned the whole place to the ground. I’m a friend of the Jacob and Evie Frye.”

Regina returns the smirk, a glint of mischief in her eyes now. “Ah, yes, the infamous twins. Those two and their little gang has brought much turmoil to the imp.” The brunette appraises her once more before flipping the dagger in her palm so the blade no longer faces Emma. “Even so, he won’t be deterred. Sooner or later, he will exterminate those two—and you—and this city will slip right back under his slimy thumb, as you put it.”

Emma lowers her hands and slowly stands, though still cautious. “I wouldn’t underestimate us. The twins’ gang has already taken White Chapel, The Strand, and Lambeth from him. He’s lost bundles of money from the factories he had in those areas.”

This conversation obviously intrigues the older woman. Her mouth gapes slightly with each piece of information and her fingers squeeze the dagger’s handle with anticipation every time Emma speaks. It gives her the confidence to extend the deal she came to offer. “And that’s where you come in, Mills.”

“Excuse me?” Regina quirks a brow as she lifts the hem of her silk nightgown to stuff the blade of her small dagger into a holster on her upper thigh, which totally doesn’t make Emma salivate. The sight of those toned olive thighs don’t make the blood rush between her legs. Not at all.

She manages to control herself though. She’s a master assassin, damn it. Temperance, patience, honor, diligence, and discipline were drilled into her by her brotherhood. The smooth expanse of a woman’s strong thigh cannot break her.

“Gold ousted you and gave his business to Victor Whale. He’s targeting your buses and destroying them, causing you to lose money and business. He’s trying to strangle your company until he’s got a monopoly on the auto bus industry.” Emma waits for confirmation of these facts and gets it with a small, terse nod. She jabs her thumb against her chest. “The enemy of your enemy is your greatest ally, Mills.”

Reluctantly, Regina agrees, “It seems so... but what exactly are you proposing?”

“Pledge allegiance and loyalty to us and we will make your interests our own.” Emma steps forward, unafraid of retaliation. “Together, we can destroy Victor Whale, bring you back to success, and dismantle the imp piece by piece until London is ours once more.” Emma tilts her head playfully, “What do you truly have to lose?”

The brunette quirks her brow incredulously as she deadpans, “My life? If Gold finds out I’ve aligned myself with you—“

“We’ll protect you.” Emma sighs though. She understands these risks better than anyone. “I’ll return tomorrow evening. If you’d like to get a taste of what we can offer you,” Emma points to the opening she climbed in from, “leave this window open. If you decide you want nothing to do with this, close it and I’ll leave you be.”

Regina doesn’t offer a response. Instead, she stares at Emma in contemplation and strokes her silk-covered abdomen nervously, but her mouth opens when Emma starts to walk backward. “Who are you?”

Emma chuckles as she leans against the window sill. “Just a lowly thief, Madame.”

As she hops through the window, she hears a breathy “my ass” come from the usually put together woman still inside and it’s enough to make Emma’s laugh ring across the neighborhood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone that has stuck with the story! I know I’m not the cream of the crop in the Swen talent pool but it really brings me joy to write for this couple and see such encouraging comments and kudos. I appreciate it so much.
> 
> Side note: This story was inspired by Jacob and Pearl from AC: Syndicate. They also weren’t canon but I thought they had amazing chemistry and their witty banter reminded me so much of Emma and Regina..... minus how they end lol

Despite Regina’s inquisitive and intrigued responses the night before, Emma’s still a bit surprised to see the window wide open. She‘s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth though, so she scales the building once the block empties and tumbles into the bedroom to find Regina standing right next to the window in tight leather pants and a loose lilac silk blouse.

The look is casual compared to the elaborate dress the woman wore the day before but it’s creating much more havoc between Emma’s legs. Toned thighs stretch the restricting material and hard-tipped buds are clearly outlined by the flowing top. The visuals sends a pang of desire through her body so strong her knees buckle. She plays it off by throwing her upper body against the wall and casually crossing her arms.

“So you’re in, huh?” Emma asks the obvious to give herself a second to calm her wild heartbeat. She nervously pulls on the lapels of her new black and yellow cloak.

Regina flicks an errant bang away from her face. A smirk lines her lips as she throws Emma’s words back at her. “Well, what do I have to lose?”

The two hurriedly climb down three flights of stairs, Emma totally not staring at Regina’s plump ass the whole way down, and step out of the large home. Regina steers them toward the alley, where her carriage is sitting unattended.

“Where’s your stalker?” Emma asks, staring at the brunette who’s petting the horses’ smooth neck.

A glare is tossed alongside the response, “If I recall, you were the one lurking in the shadows and crawling through my window last night.” Regina turns to her, gaze softened. “I told Sydney to leave the carriage here and go home. I assumed our activities should be kept private?”

“You assumed right.” Emma says. She brushes past the brunette to hop onto the seat resting right behind a black stallion and takes hold of the high quality leather reins. She jerks her head toward the luxurious inside. “Get in. We got places to go and people to destroy.”

She expects Regina to open the door to the cabin and slip inside but instead she climbs up, just as Emma did, and slides past her, dragging her chest against the blonde’s as she goes, to plop down on the free spot in front. She turns to Emma, smirking victoriously at the astonished look she gets, and motions to the reins. “Then let’s get on with it.”

“Of course, your majesty.” Emma drawls sarcastically, to which Mills smirks, knowing she’s caused a spark of intrigue.

Mills directs her to Whale’s main manufacturing plant with ease and without alerting any potential lackeys watching over the block the factory resides on. She slows the stallion to a stop in the alley across from plant, right under the shade of a looming fire escape, and hops down. Regina looks ready to follow her lead when Emma throws up her hand and hinders her movement with a well-placed palm to the upper chest.

“You stay here.”

“But—“

“You stay here, where you’re safe and I don’t have to worry about you.” Emma states demurely and silently thanks every deity she can think of when Regina doesn’t react to the insinuation that Emma cares for her. Because she can’t, not when Regina is simply a pawn in this grand game of chess against Gold. A beautiful, strong, vivacious pawn that Emma cannot allow in. Attachments comprise missions so Emma severs anything resembling them when their use has been exhausted. This partnership will follow suit.

Thankfully, Regina just nods, though not without some consternation. “The storage yard is east of the main entrance. Gold and Whale store all buses from this district there after business hours.”

“Hmm, perhaps I should pay the yard a visit and show you just what we can do for you?” Emma throws her hood up over her head as she slips backward out of the alley.

“Be a dear and survive, will you?” Regina whispers dramatically. “You’ve gotten me all aflutter with hope that Gold will bow to us and your death would put quite a damper on things.”

“Oh, just admit you’d miss me, Mills.” Emma wiggles her eyebrow in an attempt to seem suave but the heel of her leather boot snags on a raised cobblestone and she tumbles to the ground. So smooth. Regina’s hushed laugh is melodic enough to soothe the ache in her ankle though, so she races across the empty street and leans against the brick wall that lines the grounds.

She crouches, letting the wall hold her up, and let’s her mind go blank. Instantly, her surroundings turn a dark blue with objects outlined in black and she can map out at least thirty guards dispersed throughout the huge plant. Luckily, there’s no one guarding the entrance she’s closest to so she starts slowly walking into the property. She turns right after slipping through the gate and starts walking down the dirt path closest to the brick. The interior of the large, foreboding factory is heavily guarded and she’s grateful that she won’t have to take them out to finish this assignment.

Despite her job title, she doesn’t actually take pleasure in assassinating men and women that fill low ranking positions in Gold’s gang. Most of them probably took these jobs in order to feed their families or make something of themselves in a city that’s crushing its poor. So she truly tries to spare as many lives as possible, but even so, the number of lackey’s she’s taken out is too high for her comfort.

She continues past the factory, using piles of equipment as a shield from prying eyes, until she reaches a clearing. Here, near the stock yard, there’s a large number of guards watching over the precious cargo. They’re littered around the open field in front of the fenced yard, with three guards inside the yard inspecting the buses’ conditions. She relaxes and allows color to enter her vision. She can still see the guards’ silhouette through the pile of wood she’s hiding behind. Their outlines sparkle brightly in the darkness and she pays close attention to their locations as she stealthily crawls toward her goal.

She gets past the workers in the field and manages to hop over the fence into the stock yard without alerting anyone. There, she finds at least twenty vehicles lined up in three rows. The guards are pacing the length of the rows and inspecting each bus they pass thoroughly, and Emma just knows she has to take these men out before she progresses any further.

She slips a throwing knife from her pocket and grips it between her thumb and pointer finger. She peeks around the edge of a carriage, lines up the shot, then heaves the knife out of her hand. It soars through the air quietly, spinning as it goes, then sears through flesh to imbed itself in the brute guards’ right temple. He falls with a grunt and a thud. Emma freezes, but the other guards luckily didn’t hear the fall of their colleague and continue pacing their routes.

They fall just as easily as their friend and Emma gains free reign of the stock yard. She sees a small, shed-like structure sitting at the back of the yard and finds letter correspondence between Whale and Gold in the large desk inside. It clearly details a plan that was set in motion over a year ago, before Regina was fired from Gold’s alliance and Whale was promoted.

“Mills needs to see this.” She whispers under her breath as she tugs a box of matches from a hidden pocket inside her cloak. The oil used to spruce up the wood is lined up near the fence. She casually walks up to the jars and rolls them toward the buses, making sure to cover every section of the stock yard, then, with the last jar, she sprinkles some black oil down each row.

The blaze burns brightly as Emma high-tails it off the property, back to Regina, who’s watching the fire with awe from her seat on the carriage.

“Is that—?”

“Gold’s entire stock of buses from this district up in flames?” Emma grins toothily. “Oh yeah.”

The assassin hops onto her seat next to the gaping brunette, who turns to her and chuckles in disbelief. “You actually did it...”

“I did.” Emma nods. She pulls out the incriminating pile of letters she found on the property and hands them to Regina. “And I found this.”

Regina takes the letters and squints at the scratchy writing on the paper. “Letters from Gold?”

“Apparently he and Whale have been planning to destroy you and your company for well over two years.”

“What—How—“ Regina stutters, flipping through the stack of papers and rapidly skimming her eyes through the first few letters.

“I didn’t get to read much, but I’ll take it with me tonight, make Evie analyze it, then come back to you tomorrow night to let you know what was laid out in them.” Emma spikes the reins to start their journey back to Regina’s townhouse.

“That bastard.” Regina scoffs at the words she’s reading. The letter at the bottom of the stack is yellowed with coffee stains on the edges but it clearly outlines a devious plan to tarnish the Mills legacy and family business. The destruction of her buses is only the beginning if these papers are to be believed.

Emma pulls right on the reins to turn as Regina folds the letter stack in half. The blonde quirks the side of her mouth up as she teases, “So, does that mean you’re on our side?”

Regina stares at her contemplatively then a smirk slowly grows on her lips. “Yes, but I have conditions.”

Emma snorts. “You have conditions now?”

“I do, indeed.” Regina chuckles as her eyes trail down the blonde’s muscular arm suggestively. The sultry look makes Emma tug a little too hard on the reins, sending the horse, and subsequently them, flying forward. Emma’s cheeks redden when Regina simply releases that melodic laugh.

Shakily, but with enough false bravado to cover just how affected she is, Emma tries to plow past the embarrassment. “Alright, let’s hear them then. Tell me your conditions, your majesty.”

“First, I need anonymity. I would prefer Gold stays in the dark about my allegiance to the twins’ gang. However, if he does find out somehow, I’d like protection, as I’m sure he’d expedite his little mission to destroy me if he became aware of this deal.” Regina leans over, pulls apart the lapels of Emma’s cloak, drawing a choked sound of surprise from the blonde’s lips, and tucks the letters into the pocket inside. Then the brunette lifts a haughty brow, still close enough for Emma to feel her breath skitter across her cheek, as she adds, “Lastly, I need to know your name.”

At this, Emma snorts again. “Seriously? That’s where you’d draw the line?”

Regina’s full smile brightens at the teasing and those large brown, mischievous eyes sparkle under the moonlight, and it’s almost like time slows down. Loose black hair swishes across defined features as the brunette bites her lower lip and suddenly Emma wishes this could be more than a temporary partnership. Well, fuck.

Panicked by her intrusive thoughts, she spikes the reins again to make the horses speed up. The Mills townhouse is so close and it’d be real nice if she could make it there without acting like a lovestruck teenager. She’ll just drop her off and maybe send Evie to talk to Regina tomorrow. That’ll give Emma some much needed space to get over this infatuation!

There’s only one snag. She doesn’t expect Regina to turn to her when the carriage is safely tucked in the alley by her home, bat her long lashes shyly, and ask her to accompany her inside under the guise of fear that Gold followed them, which Emma doesn’t believe for a second, not when Regina’s lips keep twitching upward.

“It’s just a nightcap. I don’t bite,” Regina grins, “unless you want me to.”

The only response to that sultry flirtation is a choked sound and wide green eyes watching as Regina climbs off the carriage and starts heading toward her front door. Then, once the blonde realizes Regina is laughing under her breath as she nears her home, Emma calls out from the carriage, “Wait, I thought I was just walking you to your door!”

Regina leans against her front door and drawls sarcastically, “Which you’re doing splendidly, dear.”

That has Emma bolting from the carriage to join Regina on the sidewalk. When she nears, the brunette throws open the door and gestures for Emma to enter.

“This,” Emma points into the dimly lit home where Regina expected a nightcap to take place, “wasn’t a condition.”

Despite her words, Emma soundlessly follows the beautiful brunette into the large home and finds herself sitting on a plush couch in a small room on the second floor. If the desk, book cases, and files were any indication, this was Regina’s office or study.

It‘s cozy enough, but Emma keeps shifting on the velvet cushions anxiously as Regina pours an amber liquid from a large decanter into two thick glasses. It’s the tension in the air that has her uneasy, not a malicious tension but anticipatory, like she was waiting for a grand reason for this invite for a nightcap. It couldn’t simply be to get to know one another better or because Mills enjoys the short time she’s spent with Emma.

Regina’s voice floating from across the room snaps her from her thoughts, “So, are you going to agree to my conditions?”

She stares as Regina saunters to the couch and sits just a tad too close to not be a calculated move. She plasters on a nonchalant grin. “They’re reasonable conditions, so sure. We’ll try to keep this partnership under wraps but protect you from any potential backlash from Gold.”

“And an answer to my parting question from last night.” Regina adds slyly.

Emma scoffs playfully, “That wasn’t the deal, Mills! You said you wanted a name, not my life story!”

“I believe I deserve more than a measly name.”

“Oh, do you?” Emma finds sick pleasure in this back and forth. There’s a spark, a thrill, between them that she’s been missing since—well, since a long time ago. The connection is strong enough to make her sag into the cushions and forget all about her reservations. With that said, “You’re only getting a name today, Mills, but who knows where this partnership will take us... maybe we’ll be best buds soon.”

The idea is asinine and unlikely, which is why she’s offering it. They’ll only work together closely until Gold’s stranglehold on buses is severed, then Regina will be free to run her business and work alongside the Frye twins. Once Gold is taken out, Emma’s not sure where she’ll end up but staying in London just seems like a bad idea. Her friendships with Jacob and Evie are making her want to stay but, as experience has rudely taught her, friendships, partnerships, and relationships are built to end, especially in her line of work.

Regina, oblivious to Emma’s pessimistic thoughts, simply grins triumphantly despite getting the minimum. Maybe she knows that being privy to any information about Emma, no matter how minuscule it may seem, is a privilege. Back in France, Emma spent her days protecting citizens from power hungry police and Templars stragglers and, because she almost always had her face covered and hardly spoke, they started to call her the Savior. Even as time went on and new assassins flocked to Paris, Emma started to introduce herself with her nickname and made sure to keep an emotional distance from any partners and allies.

Jacob and Evie were the outliers. They knew her before she joined the Brotherhood, their paths crossing several times in the United States when their father was sent to aid through the back channels in the Mexican-American War on behalf of Mexico, who was up against a strong Templar presence in the ranks of their opposition. Emma briefly worked at factory as a child, one that was liberated by the Frye twins’ father. He introduced all the freed children to his own and Emma immediately hit it off with them. Though they didn’t see much of each other, the twins knew more than most and that was a terrifying reality for Emma.

Emma blinks, drawn from her thoughts to see Regina patiently waiting for elusive information she asked for. With slight hesitance, she mutters, “Swan.”

“What was that?”

Louder, Emma repeats, “You can call me Swan.”

“Swan, like the bird?” Emma nods as Regina hands her one of the glasses she poured. The brunette narrows her eyes. “Did you just pull that out of your ass?”

The vulgarity coming from a woman of Regina’s status should be unbecoming but it really just sends a thrill through her body. Emma has a thing for strong women that take a sledgehammer to society’s expectations of them. So that probably explains why Emma’s center is slick with excitement. Nothing to do with those sweet, thick lips sounding out a word that’s usually only uttered in the bedroom... of course.

A shock of laughter spills from Emma’s lungs as she refutes that. “No! Thats actually my name, but thank you for your stellar and ladylike reaction.”

“Well... I suppose it has a certain flair, dear.” Regina relents, though she still looks suspicious that Emma is duping her. Her dark eyes roam over Emma’s slouched but fit and muscular form with appreciation. “Though your clumsiness doesn’t live up to the elegance of a swan.”

“Hey, I’m plenty elegant!” Emma rebukes. “The Brotherhood chose me for a reason!”

“The Brotherhood?”

Emma freezes on her perch on the couch. Well, fuck, that was slick. She can’t believe she actually let the name of her group slip, which was considered a huge strike against them. The Creed works in the shadows and the less people know about it, the better.

“T—That’s what Evie, Jacob, and I call our friendship...” Emma’s lungs seize for a second, then she adds, “Their gang is Little Rooks, but we thought our little group deserved a unique name.”

The lie is childish but Emma tries to play it off with a long sip of the drink Regina placed in her hand. It’s pungent, slightly fruity, and heavy on the alcohol. Thank god she was hitching a ride on the back of someone else’s carriage. She wouldn’t be able to keep the horses trotting in a straight line.

“Now that was truly pulled from your posterior.” Regina responds, adding some extra lilt to her classier verbiage. “But, because I’m such a lady of class, I’ll allow your bullshit. For now.”

And Emma’s not about to back-peddle into that territory, so she starts chugging the amber liquid until her vision blurs. She swallows harshly, gritting her teeth as the liquid burns her throat, then points at the glass as she asks, “What is this stuff? I’m pretty sure a sip has made me flammable.”

A thin eyebrow quirks up in amusement, though those large brown eyes hold some thoughtfulness or suspicion. Emma hopes it’s the former. “It’s my homemade apple cider. Too potent for you, Swan?”

“For me? Hell no!” Emma purses her lips. “For a regular person? Lethal.”

Regina’s lips pull into a teasing smile. Emma’s starting to think the brunette gets off on their banter, especially since she hasn’t seen a single soul around Mills other than that creepy driver of hers. Emma noticed early on that the other woman doesn’t wear a ring and that the middle of her bed was indented, signaling that only Regina sleeps there, so all signs point to Regina being unwed or widowed. Either way, the brunette’s prickly first impression must keep many suitors and potential friendships at an arms-length.

Regina’s hand suddenly grips Emma’s free one, her thumb slowly caressing the blonde’s calloused palm. Her expression is significantly darker, much more serious, and her thoughtful gaze only grows more weary as she whispers, “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

Emma chokes on the apple cider she just started to swallow. “Wha—No! We’re going to protect you, remember? We won’t—“

“I know what was agreed upon, Swan, but I also know I’m just a pawn in this. Agreements, deals, loyalty? They don’t truly mean a damn thing if they impede the path to your goal, which is destroying Gold and the London Templars. And if that hyper focus on this group means anything, then perhaps my mother’s muttering about a secret Creed, a Brotherhood of assassins, weren’t dementia-fueled delusions after all.”

Emma’s pretty sure her heart beats into her throat as her hand subconsciously starts inching toward the dagger in her boot. Regina’s eyes flicker to the movement and, when she notices the handle of the dagger, she throws up her palms in a gesture of surrender.

“Relax, assassin. I want Gold and his rag-tag gang out of this city just as much as you do.” Regina sighs as she stands then unsteadily heads over to the decanter on the desk across the room. Her back is turned, which is a move Emma can’t help but admire considering the brunette knows there’s an assassin right behind her with a weapon and every reason to strike her down.

Regina turns her head, giving Emma a breathtaking profile to be entranced by as she continues her explanation, “I’m simply laying all the cards on the table. My mother had a decades long affair with Gold, one she didn’t truly try to keep quiet. I walked in on them once when I was seventeen, yet the bastard had the nerve to accost me not two weeks later, tried to bed me by force. Luckily my father heard me calling for help. Mother blamed me for the situation, claiming I constantly teased the imp only to deny him. My father never believed it but my mother was... a powerful woman.”

“Jesus—“

“Hmm. Before she passed, she told me these wild stories about an organization that worked in the shadows, murdering and plundering to reach their goals and mold society to its desires. Of course I shrugged it off as ramblings from a sick old woman at the time, but now I see she was simply telling the truth for once in her miserable life.”

“So you knew this whole time and played innocent? That’s supposed to elicit trust here?”

“I wasn’t sure until you slipped and said Brotherhood, the exact words my mother uttered on her death bed.” Regina fully turns and crosses her ankle over the other. Her arms cross. “And we both know you don’t need to trust me. I’m going to aid by shelling out information regarding Whale’s possible whereabouts and supplying you with various methods of dismantling the auto-bus company Gold and Whale built together. After that, you’ll disappear and leave me to fend for myself against a very rabid imp and his endless supply of cronies. How am I doing so far?”

Emma blinks, astonished. “Uh...”

“Don’t worry, Miss Swan. I know the answer... and I will go along with your plan anyway.” Regina’s eyes drop to the hardwood. The flash of fear Emma spotted minutes ago is long gone, replaced by a weary frown. “Gold won’t leave me be no matter how I proceed. So... what do I have to lose?”

She wasn’t wrong, even if some minor details were off. Emma was going to protect Regina until their partnership was no longer required, then Emma just hoped Gold wouldn’t know about their dealings and leave Mills alone. That plan got turned on its head tonight with the discovery of those letters, but what could she do? Sure, she plans on assassinating Gold when the opportunity arises but the man is practically untouchable at this stage. Regina would have to fend for herself while Emma tracks down leads for other sectors of Gold’s organization, which is a fools errand. The brunette may be feisty but she can’t hold her own in a gun fight where she’s outnumbered. Regrettably, it’s the only outcome Emma can foresee...

But fuck, does this make her any different than her superiors, who ignored the pleas from Londoners and angered Emma with the injustice of it all? Leaving this woman—Emma stares at the deep frown still marring Regina’s expression as the brunette sips from her glass—to die would make her just as guilty of the ignorance and aloofness she spat at them for.

“You’re right.” Emma sighs regretfully. She shuffles closer to Regina, who watches on with curiosity. “I was going to DL exactly that. But that’s not who I want to be. I’ve been straying from my core values lately, trying to be hyper focused on this goal, damning anyone in my way, and severing any ties that could mean something to me. That’s not why I came to London. I came to help people, to take back this city for all of you, and to be the protector you guys lacked. So I... I will protect you to the best of my abilities, because you’re not a pawn or a convenience. You’re a human being. Okay?”

Regina peers up at her from beneath her thick lashes and shrugs, and Emma can’t blame her for her lack of belief.

“I guess I’ll just have to prove it, huh?” Emma mumbles.

Regina lowers her now empty glass to the desk and jerks her chin in the direction of the pocket the letters are in. “The most recent letter in that stack is from three months ago, which is when Whale moved his office to Lambeth. If I had to guess, I’d say the other correspondences are somewhere in the company headquarters there. I’d wager I’m not his only target.”

“It’s getting late.” Emma says in lieu of a response. It’s entirely plausible Gold is targeting a few people but it’ll take some elbow grease to find that information. “I’ll come back tomorrow, around noon?”

“I’m meeting with a prospective supplier in the morning so... three o’clock?” Regina takes back the glass she’d given Emma and sets it next to her own on the desk. Emma nods at that. It’s not like she has a packed schedule anyway.

“Sure. I’ll see you then... and I’ll let you know if anything else pops up in these.” She pats her chest softly.

And as Emma walks out the front door, she can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment at how much of a sour turn the night took. They’d been joking, teasing, and... and flirting? And it was nice until she slipped, like a damn newbie.

With a scowl, she starts her journey to the heart of London.

Yeah, it’s better not to analyze it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m @SwanQueenSwen on Twitter if you’d ever like to talk more in-depth :)


	3. Chapter 3

The letters reveal Gold and Whale’s mutual burning dislike for Regina, which isn’t a surprise considering Whale seems to be a total sleaze and Gold thinks he’s an untouchable god. But this information isn’t new or groundbreaking so Evie pushes Emma to find more correspondence and Emma can’t help but pout about it.

“Emma, those missing letters could have incredibly important information—“ Evie’s lecture was cut off by a loud groan from Emma’s prone form on the couch across from the assassination board.

“I know, okay?” Emma turns her head and plops her cheek against the soft cushion under her. “I’m going to do it, I just want to let the record show that I don’t want to.”

Evie playfully scoffs, her arms crossing as she leans against the empty side of the board across from her. “The record hears you loud and clear.”

Emma checks the clock above Evie’s head and sighs when she sees her appointment with Mills is creeping up. “Alright, I’m going. Wish me luck.”

The streets are packed at this time of the day and Emma has to weave through throngs of people just to exit the train station in Westminster. It leaves her several blocks from Regina’s home but the weather is nice enough that the walk isn’t insufferable.

What she finds at the Mills residence is insufferable.

“Miss Mills, you look stunning!”

“Sydney, flattery will get you nowhere.”

From halfway down the block, Emma watches as Regina, in an elegant and quite tight red dress, struts toward a slack-jawed Sydney. She gets his awe, she really does. Mills is like an earth goddess of beauty and lust or something equally sexy and attractive. Anyone with functioning eyes can see that. But, for some reason, his awe and adoration toward the brunette sparks something ugly in her and she ends up stomping the rest of the way to them like a child throwing a tantrum.

With a few quick, deep breaths, she manages to hide this consternation just in time.

“Ah, Miss Swan.” Regina addresses her indifferently and Emma hates it about as much as she hates the fact that Regina’s announcing her name for everyone in range to hear. The brunette sniffs, “You’re late.”

She’s three minutes late. Three minutes. Emma theatrically rolls her eyes. “So sorry, your majesty. I should’ve camped out here all night instead. Maybe then you’d be satisfied.”

“Strange characters like yourself roaming about at all hours will lower property values.” Regina snarks. Sydney grins like he won something and Emma suppresses the urge to slap that triumphant expression off his face. This day has the markings for a shit storm carved all over it.

The ride over to Lambeth is surprisingly quiet. Regina pulls out a novel, the one she was reading that first night Emma crawled through her window, from her small clutch purse the moment she sits. She reads the entire time while Emma forces herself to stare out the window so she doesn’t stare at Regina in those thick glasses. She really needs to get this little bout of attraction out of her system—Regina bites her lips as she flips a page—and quick.

What’s irritating her above all is how disappointed she is over this sudden cold shoulder. She enjoyed their easy and teasing banter too much and it’s making her anxious and jumpy.

They’re stationed a few blocks from the headquarters, not wanting to tip Sydney off to their plans, when Regina finally peers at her over the rim of her glasses. “Well, good luck, Miss Swan.”

Emma hops out of the carriage with a huffed, “Yeah, yeah. Tell your creep to stay here. I’ll be back.”

“Hopefully you are,” Regina adds, a twist of dark humor in her voice, “I do loathe being left unsatisfied.”

Emma nearly chokes on her own saliva but stumbles away from the carriage (and Regina’s soft snickers) before she can make a total fool of herself.

The headquarters is bustling and this heist is ten times more difficult than last night. She knocks out over a dozen guards and is forced to snap the neck of a lackey that almost gave her away, but she reaches Whale’s office on the third floor of the building. It’s desolate but Emma stills uses precaution as she tiptoes away from the stairs, around several wooden crates lining the small walkway to the other side of this floor. Whale’s office takes up half of the far side while the rest is mostly used for storage. His office is dark though, so Emma’s hoping he’s not in. It’d make this significantly easier.

She doesn’t want to take Whale out yet, not when she’s sure she can squeeze more information out of him and his business beforehand. Fate grants her this mercy. His office is empty and she’s free to search thoroughly.

His desk drawers are all locked but she easily picks them and flips through meaningless documents until she spots a smaller table in the corner by the door. It has a bowl for keys sitting on top and a drawer tiny enough to only fit knick-knacks or envelopes.

She picks that lock and, “Bingo, you bastard.”

There’s a stack of letters sitting neatly in the drawer, just like last time, but these are crisper and haven’t discolored or faded. They’re new, which also means Whale will notice their absence so she stuffs empty envelopes from the desk into the drawer and just hopes Whale doesn’t go back to read these.

She stuffs the stack into her breast pocket then vaults over the edge of the open window on the back wall to stealthily scale the side of the building to the ground where she knocked out the guard keeping watch over the cargo crates. She takes the gun from his holster then jogs back to the carriage. It’s half a block away from where it was when Emma left, because Regina’s stubborn and kind of an asshole.

Sydney doesn’t even pretend he’s going to help her in and she glares at his back until she slips into the cabin, where Regina’s still eagerly reading.

“I’m back.” Emma drops onto the seat across from the brunette and smirks. “I hope that satisfies you, your majesty.”

Regina’s eyes dart up but immediately hone in on the letters. “You actually found them.”

Emma holds up the envelopes. “Yeah. He kept these under lock and key in his office. I’m gonna skim through some while the creep on your payroll takes us back to your place.”

Her eyes are trained on the papers in her hands but she can feel Regina’s glare burning a hole through her skull. She doesn’t get Regina’s slight protective streak over this man, the one that doesn’t respect her boundaries and unapologetically keeps chasing her when she’s made it clear she’s not interested. Maybe there’s a reason for it. Maybe Regina enjoys the attention no matter what form it comes in because she’s so isolated from others.

She looks up to see Regina still staring at her, though the look isn’t heated anymore. It’s a bit soft, amused. It reminds her of the looks Regina gave her last night before she said that word that made the brunette snap back into a mask of indifference. She can’t hold the gaze, it’s intensity too strong for her, so she turns back to the papers in her hand and starts skimming the top page and—

“Oh shit.” Her harsh hiss is low but Regina stills startles. Emma keeps reading and uncovering more to Gold’s grand scheme. Regina isn’t the only one in imminent danger.

“Miss Swan?”

Emma jerks out of her haze. “These letters map out detailed assassination plots for at least three people, you being one of them, and, if the tone here means anything, these plans are already in motion.”

“Three?”

God, her own plans to take down Whale have to be expedited if she has any chance at saving these targets. She looks at Regina and feels her heart stop when she realizes the brunette is trembling in her seat, her novel having fallen to the floor. She vehemently repeats her oath, “I will protect you. I will protect all of you.”

Regina quirks a brow and Emma just knows she needs more information. She needs to know what she’s up against and who’s also up against it. Emma says, “David Nolan, the police chief, and Marian Hood, a member of parliament.”

Regina’s mouth curls into a sneer. “He’s trying to take out anyone that’s in his way. Nolan’s a noble man, an upstanding officer. He’s been keeping tabs on Gold, conducting random warehouse searches in hopes of finding something to charge his lackeys with, and Gold has cursed his name quite a few times in my presence.”

“What about Hood?”

“Marian was a close friend of mine until—It’s not important.” Regina swallows thickly and Emma senses a rough history there. “She’s one of the only members of parliament to publicly denounce Gold and the Templars. Gold caught wind of a rumor that Marian was going to propose legislation that would severely undermine the Templars to the Queen.”

“I can see why he’d kill them. It makes sense.” Regina squints at her incredulously. Emma explains, “They’ve rocked the boat and he wants to steady it. But you seem to have kept steady. Sabotaging your company is one thing, but murder? Why would he kill you? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I know too much.” Regina answers, head bowed and nails digging into her palms. Emma hates seeing her so distraught... not because she cares or anything. “I’ve known Gold for so long, my mother knew him intimately, and I was his right-hand woman for several years. I know too much.”

She’s right, not that Emma would ever acknowledge it. Now, there’s a choice that must be made. Regina’s home is a target, so she can either leave the brunette off at home and hope nothing goes down or she can drag her to a safe place, preferably the Frye train. The unnerved glint in Regina’s eyes makes the decision that much easier.

“When we get to your place, pack a bag.”

“Excuse me?” The unnerved glint turns fiery and dangerous. Mills apparently hates being told what to do. “Why?”

“Do you really need to ask me that?” Emma responds, teeth gritted, and Regina’s eye twitches, like she’s holding in a wince. “Gold’s painted a bullseye on your back.” She pauses, scratches the nape of her neck, then whispers softly, “And I made a promise I intent to keep.”

And when Regina’s eyes widen, Emma could kick herself for the sentimentality. This is not how she usually operates but Regina Mills is twisting her world on its axis. She can’t control this unquenchable thirst to be vulnerable with her in a way she hasn’t been since Lily, her teenage love. Every cell in her body fights it but the battle was long lost the moment Emma set eyes on the petite brunette scolding a police officer twice her size without a single shred of fear.

The tense, but anticipatory, silence stretches on until Sydney pulls in front of Regina’s home. For once, the older woman doesn’t protest or fight. She slides out of the carriage after pressing her palm against Emma’s chest, a clear signal to stay put, and comes back not even ten minutes later with a large bag filled to the brim.

“Where to?” Regina mumbles shyly as she wraps her arms around the bulky bag to keep it on her lap.

Emma sticks her head out of the carriage and tersely commands Sydney to drive to White Chapel’s west train station. He sneers at her but obeys, pulling on the reins so the horses start trotting.

She has Sydney leave before they enter the bustling station. She doesn’t need Jacob on her ass about privacy again. So she brought Elsa Snow, head of Gold’s cocaine manufacturing, to the train for a night of debauchery. Once Emma unsheathed herself from those vertical fingers, rolled off of the petite blonde, and caught her breath, she stuck a needle into the girls neck and let the lethal concoction work it’s magic. No muss, no fuss. Jacob and Evie don’t agree, but whatever. This is different.

Elsa was her target. Regina’s a tentative ally that Emma has such mixed, muddled feelings about, and maybe that’s the part driving her to protect Regina. Hell, all Emma knows is that she made a promise to see Regina through this cluster fuck and it’s the first thing in a while that’s made her feel like coming to London was the right decision, like this whole thing isn’t making her hard and out of touch with those she took the oath to protect.

“This is our train.” Emma finally breaks the anxious silence that had befallen them since they left Regina’s home. The Frye train is stationed on platform A, right on time, and she pulls the older woman onto the last railcar, which is her bedroom.

They’re already standing in the center of her luxurious digs when Regina rips her hand from Emma’s hold and sneers, “Where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere.” Emma rolls her eyes. Regina too busy silently judging the dark red carpet and clashing yellow bedspread to notice. “This is where we’ll be staying until we sort this out.”

Regina stares the single twin sized bed by the back wall poignantly. “The accommodations are quite sparse, Swan.”

And yeah, okay, maybe she didn’t think this through, but it’s done. “Don’t worry, Mills, I’ll make sure you’re satisfied with the arrangement.”

For once, it’s Regina choking on air and Emma enjoys it way too much.

~|SQ|~

Regina ends up being a considerate roommate, which shocks the shit out of Emma considering how uptight and prissy Regina can be. The brunette is tidy, mindful of Emma’s belongings and boundaries, and she keeps the sass to minimum.

So what has Emma ready to jump off of this moving train to her death? Well, the fact that they’ve been roommates for about six weeks now. Six weeks! Whale has all but disappeared since they took his letters, which is probably what spooked him into hiding, Gold remains a shadowy figurehead, and his men have been sniffing around Regina’s house each time Emma took her back to get more clothing or books. Sydney wouldn’t stop calling the police so the department had declared Regina a missing persons then conducted searches all around London. It only stopped when Emma took Regina to Sydney so she could tell him to back off and get the police to leave them be.

Plus, after her visit to Chief Nolan a month ago, many officers have become loyal to the Frye twins and their gang, The Little Rooks. Of course, that alliance must be taken with a grain of salt. Most of the force is loyal to Nolan but some are dirty and work for Gold.

Marian Hood is another sore spot. Her unwavering fearlessness has almost gotten her killed twice. Emma keeps warning her of the dangers but that woman stops at nothing in her quest for justice and honor. It’d be awe inspiring if Emma wasn’t so damn worried they were going to find her body in a ditch. Regina was safely tucked away on the train with trusted allies but the other two were open to attacks in their very public roles in law enforcement and government. Protecting them has become a massive pain in the ass.

It’s a nightmare, as Jacob and Evie keep reminding her.

But apart from those frustrations, the worst part of this whole arrangement is how horny it’s making her.

From the first night, Regina seemed intent on torturing her, whether it be with a much shorter silk nightie than Emma saw her in that first time they spoke, cuddling up in their sleep, or saying even the most mundane things with such a suggestive tone. She’s pretty sure these things are done purposefully. Regina seems way too smug when she catches Emma staring at her full, smooth thigh as she rubs lotion onto her legs.

“Miss Swan!”

And when she bends over and starts rubbing the cream into her calf really fast, her breasts straining against the silk bounce so enticingly—

“Swan!” Fingers snap in front of her eyes and she jerks to see Regina staring at her incredulously. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you weren’t listening to a word I just said.”

“Uh—“ When did her mouth get so dry? She clears her throat. “Sorry, I was zoned out.”

There’s that smug look again. Yeah, these panties are ruined.

“Well, as I was saying, I had a meeting with a supplier the day we found Whale’s letters but I never heard back from him because he apparently went crawling to Gold.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So? This new invention, the internal combustion engine, would make a bus faster and lighter, much more efficient, and cost savvy. If it gets into Gold and Whale’s slimy little paws, Mills Transport will turn to ash in no time at all.” Regina props her hands on her hips with a smirk as she watches Emma wiggle on the bed. She probably knows why, that smug little— “So, I need you to steal them for me.”

Emma whips her head forward so fast her neck cricks. “You want me to steal engines? Those things weigh thousands of pounds, you know that, right?”

“Sounds like a personal problem, Miss Swan.”

Honestly, this commandeering, bossy attitude shouldn’t turn her on as much as it does. She needs to get laid before she jumps this woman’s bones.

“Yeah, yeah. Do you at least have an idea where I could find them?”

“They’re being loaded onto a train in The Strand as we speak.” Regina sits next to her on the bed, crossing her ankles over each other as a blush suddenly brightens her cheeks. She’s turned off the seductress act to gently smile at Emma and squeeze her muscular bicep. “Be careful, dear.”

This sweet side of Regina is the newest development as of late. The brunette is very tactile but limits it to soft squeezes on biceps, hands laid on shoulders and backs, and the occasional sweep of a finger through a wayward lock of hair. Emma’s not sure what’s buzzing around Regina’s mind but she enjoys the small signs of affection, even if she pretends they mean nothing.

“I’ll be fine,” Emma pats the hand still wrapped around her arm. “But hey, if I croak, you get this room all to yourself, your majesty. Maybe you’re rooting for the wrong thing.”

Regina’s lips purse, a pensive wrinkle marring the skin between her eyes. “I believe I’ll stick with my original statement.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Emma plays it off the best she can. She’s not used to someone worrying about her safety. She’s been surrounded by fellow assassins since she joined the Brotherhood in her early twenties and none showed such concern, mostly because they knew the dangers of their line of work but also because they thought Emma was skilled and could withstand a lot of heat. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If Evie or Jacob ask—“

“I’ll let them know.”

The warmth that permeates from Regina stays with Emma until she gets to the south side of the Strand, where Gold’s men are stacking cargo onto a train, which wouldn’t raise any suspicion in and of itself but she spies a large item resting on the first railcar. It’s covered by a tapestry but the shape of its gives it away immediately.

So she sidles up to the first platform without attracting attention and disconnects the first railcar from the back ten then sits between the between the engine and a cargo box behind it. Leaning up, she pounds her fist against the wall separating her from the conductor like she’s seen the lackeys do when they’re ready to depart.

The train takes off and Emma has to hold in a chuckle as she watches the Templars scrambling to reach the railcar she’s on. They’re yelling and waving their arms urgently but the conductor is none the wiser.

She snickers under her breathe. “Suckers.”

She waits a few minutes, scoping out the engine as she they tick by, then scales the side of the moving train to reach the sliding door of the conductors cabin up front. Her grip stays strong on the intricate metal designs as her foot nudges the door open slowly. She hears the conductors slight gasp but doesn’t give him any time to react.

Her first punch lands squarely on his gut and he bends as another hoarse gasp bursts from his battered lungs. He tries to wrap his muscular arms around her waist to throw her off balance but she darts to the side, sending him sprawling into the open doorway. He turns to attack but Emma’s faster. Her foot kicks upward, landing on his chest and sending him hurtling out of the moving train.

And then she’s face-to-face with an intricate system of buttons, levers, and chains, and she just killed the only person in sight that knows how to work this thing.

“For fucks sake.” She stares at the controls with utter confusion. She flicks a lever and a light comes on above her head. For some reason, that boosts her confidence. Probably cause it didn’t blow her to smithereens.

“Screw this.” Emma huffs as she steps away from the controls, frustrated and a bit miffed at herself for not thinking this through. She climbs out of the cabin, carefully jumps back onto the platform the engine sits on, then kneels in from of the bolt keeping this segment attached to the front.

It’s a thick piece of steel, too heavy for her to pull out, and it’s severely rusted so even attempting would be a fools errand. But the orange dust covering the bolt gives her one advantage. It’s weakened the iron and therefore easier to break. Thank god she packed her Magnum.

The first shot ricochets off the bolt and chips a large piece of the bottom off. The second shot disintegrates the thick, bulbed top and all Emma has to do is give a swift stomp on the stump remaining for the platform to separate. The train’s engine continues its journey but her platform screeches against the iron tracks. The loss of momentum throws her back and she narrowly misses banging her head on the engine.

She rubs at the elbow that struck the side of the contraption on the way down and hisses when her fingers brush over an open wound. Begrudgingly, she stands to peer over the rail on the edge of the tracks and sees a green carriage idling on a street corner below.

“Boys!” The gang members sitting up front look around, startled and befuddled until Emma yells again, “Up here!” They look up and she waves from her perch. “Get Jacob!” She pauses, looks to the engine then back again. “And a crane!” She purses her lips. “And a cargo truck!”

Jacob throws her a knowing, but very much disapproving, glance when he pulls up with the vehicle and the small crane alongside the railcar. Emma just shrugs as her legs hang off of the train edge and swing childishly. She usually scoffs when Jacob chastises her, because he’s a careless buffoon that acts without thinking so who is he to talk, but she honestly doesn’t think she can argue this one so she keeps her mouth closed.

They load the engine onto their own platform with some struggle but they’re off toward the manufacturing plant Regina told them about before the Templars show up and the unload is smooth. So it isn’t a total disaster, at least.

Regina’s mocking bow when she gets back to the train actually makes her blush. Which is stupid.

“You’re welcome, your majesty.” Emma grumbles.

Regina smiles even wider, enjoying Emma’s breathy tone and the way she stumbles over her own heels trying to lean against the furthest corner from Regina’s spot on the bed. Despite her teasing, her words are sincere. “Thank you, Miss Swan. That engine will certainly give me an edge over the imp.”

The bold honesty and gratitude lures Emma closer. She slowly steps forward until she’s sitting right next to Regina, their shoulders brushing and their pinkies touching. “He’s probably so pissed right now and I couldn’t be happier.”

Regina chuckles victoriously, light and full of humor and triumph. “Indeed, dear.”

Emma scoots back until her shoulders press against the headboard that’s nailed to the vibrating wall. It’s a major inconvenience with all its rattling but it’s proven to be quite useful in throes of passion. She peeks at the brunette and catches her staring.

“What? Did I tear my cloak again?” Emma pats over the leather cloth covering her abdomen, chest, then thighs but Regina’s hands stop her search with a firm grip. Suddenly the older woman is next to her, her front pressed against Emma’s side.

“No, that infernal cloak is miraculously in tact.” Regina sniffs. She’s made consistent derogatory remarks about her now infamous yellow and black cloak but Emma thinks it’s an act and Regina secretly loves it. She’s caught the brunette staring at it draped over the back of the office chair with fondness when she thought Emma was sleeping. It’s another thing Emma compartmentalizes to save herself from something that could consume her.

“The guy that runs the plant—“

“Daniel.”

“Daniel wanted me to let you know that everything was running smoothly.” She doesn’t mention how doe-eyed the dude seemed and how he kept slyly trying to find out when Regina was coming back. Mostly because she doesn’t want to think of his reasons.

“Good.” Regina’s eyes lose focus, like she’s lost in a memory. Then she blinks, shakes her head as she swallows roughly, and smiles lopsidedly. “Good.”

There’s obviously a history there, a sordid story, but they aren’t the types to open up. Hell, Regina doesn’t even know her first name. Evie, Jacob, and the rest of the crew on the train have been careful when addressing her in front of Regina in an attempt to respect Emma’s wish for anonymity. Although, now, sitting on this bed with their pinkies caressing, Emma can’t remember why she wanted it.

Even though it’s not what they do, Emma’s curiosity wins out. “Is he, uh, your guy?”

Regina’s smile loses some of its light. “Who, Daniel?” Emma nods. “No... No, it never went farther than childish infatuation.”

Emma purses her lips as mild jealousy floods her body. It’s completely unwelcome and she feels foolish for caring so much when she’s been preaching emotional distance for months. But her mouth opens without a second thought. “I don’t know, he seemed lovestruck over you, but—uh, it’s probably none of my business.”

Regina’s pinky stops moving and Emma misses the affection for a split second until that hand slides under hers fully, and now they’re basically holding hands, except they don’t make any moves to interlock fingers, knowing that’d make this much more intimate and real.

“As a young woman, I was infatuated with the life he could’ve given me. A house, a family, a safe place to fall. But that’s what he was... a warm, living, breathing opportunity to get the hell away from my mother.” Regina’s small smile turns slightly self-deprecating. “He was an act of rebellion, a way to push back against her when I had no other outlet, and, god, she hated him. But he’s a good man and he didn’t deserve to be a pawn.”

Emma can’t help but think of a solemn Regina standing in front of her calling herself the exact same thing when they met. But then the words register and she thinks of brown hair and hazel eyes that served as refuge for her and Emma just gets it. “He was an escape.”

Regina snaps her gaze back to Emma’s and there’s some insurmountable relief shining there. “Indeed. And now, he believes we belong together and I...”

“You...?”

“I’m not the rebellious, angry girl anymore. I’ve changed and I don’t think he sees that.” Regina’s hand balls into a fist under her palm. “I don’t think he knows me at all.”

Emma cringes at that, because of a man that’s known Regina for decades doesn’t know her than what the hell chance does she have? Ugh, Apparently Daniel isn’t the only fool lovestruck over Regina and it makes her teeth grit and grind. This is exactly what she’s been fighting since she met the transport mogul but she’s failed so spectacularly.

“Maybe you could show him who you are.” Emma says it like she’s pushing Regina to be with him but her hand squeezes the fist under her palm until it unfurls. “From what I’ve seen, you’re a sarcastic asshole that’s worth every second of anyone’s time.”

Now there’s mirth in Regina’s gaze but it’s held up by something indescribable, something soft and anticipatory.

“Perhaps I could if he would open up to me.” Regina says shyly, “It can’t be all one sided.”

It’s a clear hint, Emma knows. They‘re not talking about him, not being even remotely subtle, and a part of her is just content that her self-sabotage didn’t lead this woman away.

“Yeah... that’s understandable.” Emma sighs. Regina’s hand flips so their palms are sliding against one another. Emma wishes she could reach out and touch more, feel more, but she freezes. Then, “Emma.”

“Pardon?”

“My name is Emma... Emma Swan.”

Regina soft fingers squeeze between Emma’s and curl tight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate everyone that’s checked out this story! I know people are sometimes weary of works in progress so I’m appreciative that you’ve given it a chance before it’s completed!
> 
> I’m hoping I’ll be able to post chapter 5 tomorrow, as I’m almost done with it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

“I know how to play black jack, Miss Swan.”

“Alright, your majesty, no need to get snippy! I was just making sure!” Emma shuffles the cards until Regina sighs and swats her hands. “Okay, so what’re we playing for?”

Regina smirks. “Clothing?”

That might’ve made Emma choke on air before their little hand-holding session last week but now she just throws back a grin. “Or, the winner of each hand gets a truth about the loser?”

“Hmm, not as exciting but alright, dear.” The small but genuine smile on Regina’s lips tells Emma her idea appeals to the brunette more than she’s willing to let on. After all, Regina is the one that hinted she wanted to get to know Emma better. And Emma can’t say she isn’t curious about the woman she has a giant, inappropriate crush on.

Emma tosses down the cards then slaps the rest of the stack in the center of the floor. Regina had fought tooth and nail to play on the bed so she wouldn’t have to reduce herself to the floor but the mattress was too soft and the cards kept sliding. It was really satisfying seeing Regina concede that Emma was right.

Emma checks her cards. A seven of hearts and a three of diamonds, so a ten. She peers over the cards to see Regina looking mighty smug. It could be a trick though. She lifts a card from the center stack. A king! With her own smug smile, she calls out, “I’m staying. You?”

Regina throws down her cards and, fuck, is that— “Twenty one.”

Emma angrily flicks her cards down. “You cheat!”

“My, my, if this is your reaction to losing one hand, just wait until I get you to reveal all of your neatly kept secrets.” Regina wiggles her eyebrows. She’s such an asshole, yet Emma bites her lips to keep from chuckling at the confident expression on Regina’s face. “Well? You owe me a truth, Emma.”

Emma huffs but mentally scrolls through her memory for a truth that won’t reveal too much, too soon. After a few seconds, she says, “I joined the Brotherhood when I was sixteen years old. It was probably the only job I was equipped for, if I’m honest.”

Regina fakes a gasp, “Don’t say that! I’m sure you had many, many skills, Miss Swan.”

The suggestive tone has Emma snorting. “Sister, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

She deals again and Emma goes for a third card only to go over twenty one while Regina stays at two cards for a fifteen. Emma groans but it’s more playful than bitter. Truthfully, opening up to Regina isn’t as painful as she thought. Actually, she finds she wants to.

“Years before I even knew who she was, I slept with Nadine Gold in Barcelona.” Regina’s jaw drops then snaps shut and Emma can see her mandible sliding back and forth. She refuses to be a masochist and attach more meaning to that than she should. Instead, she plows on. “I snuck into an abandoned warehouse to squat for the night, thinking it was empty, and tripped right over her sleeping body. She told me she’d been running away from her abusive father and we bonded over the next week. We slept together then I ran, like I always do when I start feeling things I shouldn’t.”

Regina stares. Just when it starts to get awkward, the older woman throws a hand in front of her mouth to muffle a chuckle. Regina mocks through a puff of laughter, “Oh my god, you slept with Gold’s daughter?”

“Hey! This is supposed to be a safe space!” Emma grumbles.

“I’m sorry, dear.” She doesn’t look it. At all. “The irony is delicious.”

“Yeah, yeah, you deal this time. I’m unlucky.”

Funnily enough, Emma wins the next hand with a perfect twenty one in two cards.

“Alright, let’s see.” Regina tosses her cards into the used pile as Emma watches on with a slightly smug grin even though the scoreboard shows she’s still behind. “I never wanted to take over my mother’s company and, truthfully, I despise this line of work.”

“So why do you keep doing it?” Emma asks gently.

“My mother was very persuasive...” Regina twists her mouth self-deprecatingly. “I always dreamed of exacting change, of bettering this city, but... I suppose that isn’t in the cards.”

Emma swallows roughly, hating how downtrodden Regina is over this. “Hey, there’s still time for a career change! You’d be a badass politician or activist!” Emma tries to break the tension, “And I’m not just saying that cause I want to get in your pants either.”

Regina laughs, loud and free, and it’s the single greatest look Emma’s seen on her. Once the laughter becomes quiet snickers, Regina leans over to shove Emma’s shoulder. “As if you’d need flattery for that.”

And, well, Emma may be immune to the teasing but this feels real, like an invitation to act on the connection they both feel, and she flushes a bright rosy tint that’s so embarrassing Emma could fling herself off the moving train.

Instead of that, she swipes the card deck and deals the next hand. She gets a two of hearts and a four of clubs then picks up a third card and stays at sixteen. Regina has eighteen though.

“I was—am—an orphan. My parents left me in an alley a few blocks from here and a cop took me to some spinster. She took care of me until I was around five then... well, let’s just say I was on my own.”

Regina’s mouth purses and her eyes harden, like she’s just as pissed about it as Emma is. It was a pretty fucked up situation and she barely made it out the other side. She definitely didn’t get out unscathed. Though, if she’s honest, coming back to London wasn’t entirely selfless. There was a part of her that thought she’d find them, her parents, and she’d get to scream and curse and ask the questions she’s bottled up for as long as she can remember. But she has no way of finding them, no clues or hints, and there’s no way to know if they’re even in London anymore. It’s just another pipe dream, one she has to get over.

“Emma, that’s... I’m sorry.” Regina says, so quietly it can barely be heard over the rumbling of the train.

Emma waves it off. “It’s okay.”

Regina must read her like a book, because she reaches out and caresses Emma’s knee with soft reverence and comfort. But she seems to know enough about her to know not to continue and silently deals the next hand.

Emma wins with a nineteen and Regina doesn’t even mock protest.

“I had an affair with Marian Hood’s husband and it tore our friendship apart.” Regina says under her breath and looks repentant the moment it leaves her lips. Emma can see the turmoil rolling in those brown eyes and it’s troubling enough that Emma pushes aside her slight, and irrational, jealousy. She waits, Regina clears her throat and straightens her spine, and Emma wonders if this is the first time she’s ever told an outsider about this. “He worked for me—technically Gold—as a bodyguard, always followed me around like a shadow, but one day he attempted to seduce me when we were alone and he was quite forward and insistent and I was reeling from the loss of my father and I let it happen. I betrayed my friend and she’s right to hate me.”

Emma is ambushed by the memory of walking in on her first love in the throes of passion with another and she thinks she gets Marian distancing herself. The next thought flushes out different emotions though.

“He didn’t pressure you into it, did he?” Emma gently asks, slightly nervous to hear the answer.

Regina’s slight hesitation makes Emma want to find this asshole, bring him here to beg for forgiveness from the brunette, then kick his ass so hard he’d see double. “... I’d say he took advantage of the timing, as I was mourning and feeling quite lonely, but...”

Emma can see her struggling to finish the sentence and decides to save her the trouble by kindly whispering, “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Regina’s eyes become a bit misty. “He was a good man.” The corner of mouth lifts, just managing to smile, even if it’s weighed down by desolation. “He would’ve loved you, I think.” At Emma’s furrowed brow, Regina elaborates, “He admired those that put their lives at risk for the well-being of others. He tried to stand up for me against my mother but she was too powerful, too grandiose, and very willing to strike anyone opposing her down. She would’ve hated you.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“As you should.” Regina grins. “Another hand?”

Emma shakes her head. “I’m supposed to head out to meet with Nolan. He told Jacob that he has important information about Whale so Jacob set up a meeting.”

Regina bites the corner of her lip and Emma can tell she wants to ask something. Her suspicion is confirmed when Regina states, “I’m feeling quite claustrophobic in this room. I‘ve been cooped up for several weeks.”

Emma’s sympathetic, she really is, but the thought of taking Regina with her seems like an unnecessary risk and she doesn’t trust anyone else to protect the brunette.

“Please, Emma.” And her rationale flies right out the window and into the chilly air where it shrivels up and disintegrates.

But her self preservation is still intact and she takes every precaution she can. She has Regina wear a cloak over an unassuming pair of slacks and a silky blouse, hide in the carriage she acquisitions, and has her walk right behind her so her head will block any view to Regina’s face.

It soothes her worries until they step into the precinct in the city of London. Street criminals, including some men dressed in the familiar Templar garb, are behind bars on every floor they climb. She thinks they get by unnoticed, especially with other officers chaotically shuffling around, but she only sags with relief when they’re safely locked behind Nolan’s office door.

“Whale moved his office to Westminster, near Buckingham.” Nolan says before they can even sit down then hands Emma a map with a red mark revealing the location of Whale’s new hideout. Nolan seems nervous and paranoid.

“Did something happen, David? You seem kind of unhinged, no offense.”

Regina lowers the hood of the borrowed cloak but faces the far wall, pretending to be interested in the array of family photos there.

“I feel eyes on me everywhere I go, even at home. My gut tells me Gold is close to putting his plots in motion and it’s making me jumpy.” The chief leans over his desk, palms flat against the wood to hold up his torso, and Emma drops into the guest chair. Regina stares at a photo of David and a pixie-haired woman who seems oddly familiar to her.

“He probably has people tracking you.” Emma assumes gently. “I could find you and your wife a safe house but you’d have to take a leave of absence.”

David runs his hand through his hair and over his face. “I can’t leave my men, especially now with all the Templars being a little crazier than usual.”

Regina finally speaks up, “How so?”

David jumps at the deep voice, eye brows furrowed like he didn’t even notice Regina was there. “They’re conducting business so visibly that even some of the crooked guys have had no choice but to arrest them.”

“Why would they—“ Regina’s cut off.

“To learn his schedule, to listen in on conversations floating around the precinct, to sniff out clues.” Emma answers. “They’re spying. It’s actually a pretty smart move.”

Gold is anything but a fool. By now, he’s been made aware that his private correspondence with Whale isn’t so private anymore and has sped up the timeline. He wants to gain footing again, get leverage, and his easiest target is the precinct. His men tend to land themselves there anyway so might as well use it to his advantage.

“I can’t tell my men to not arrest them.” Nolan says, his voice strained. “That’d be unethical.”

“Would you rather be unethical or have your body sawed to pieces and dumped in the Thames?” Regina asks with barely concealed incredulity. She’s still facing the wall, glaring at the glossy photo of Nolan staring into his wife’s eyes with enough adoration to make Regina nauseous.

Emma agrees, “She’s right, Nolan. But, since you seem dead set on sticking around, you should keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious, watch your back, lock your home’s doors and windows at night, and avoid talking near any of those jail cells. Templars aren’t your only problem. This force is full of Gold’s puppets so be cautious around your men too.”

He concedes. “Alright. But hey, Marian Hood doesn’t have the same resources for protection as I do. You should think about extending that safe house offer to her again.”

Regina snorts derisively. “She won’t accept. She’s bullheaded and insanely brave that way.”

And it’s a miracle Marian has survived thus far. Her newly inked legislation against monopolies is heading to Parliament tomorrow and Gold has doubled his surveillance of the Hood household. Emma sometimes conducts stakeouts to see if she catches any Templars red-handed and the sheer number of men lurking around the Hood and Nolan homes is disconcerting, but Marian keeps plowing through each day with fierce gusto.

Everyone is deliriously brave except for me, Regina thinks. She turns slightly toward the office door and slides her gaze over to Emma, whose gone above and beyond to protect her life and legacy, and all she’s done is cower away from the man that’s manipulated her since she was a fragile teenager.

She can’t help but feel useless in this battle and she detests it. Emma notices her melancholy when they step back onto the street and start casually strolling in the direction of the train station where the Frye train is waiting for them.

“You okay?” Emma asks, clearly concerned.

Regina fiddles with the buttons on the cloaks cuff, which just adds to Emma’s worry, even if she won’t acknowledge it. Regina suddenly huffs, “Am I burdening you?”

“What? No—“

“I’ve taken over your space and your time... I can’t protect myself.” Regina grinds her teeth but keeps striding away from the precinct in quick steps. Emma breathes harshly as she tries to keep up. “I’m a liability, that’s just fact, yet you continue to place my safety as a priority. I just don’t understand.”

“I made a promise—“

“You intend to keep, yes, I know.” Regina rolls her eyes so hard Emma feels it. “I suppose I just don’t understand why you made that damn promise. You were planning to let me rot until I confronted you at my house! So what changed?”

“I don’t know!” Emma exclaims loudly enough to gain some concerned glances from passers by. She clears her throat, discreetly latches on to Regina’s arm, and starts dragging them toward their station with much more determination. She lowers her voice as she adds, “I don’t know what made me change my mind. I just... I looked at you and your sad doe eyes and I just knew I had to protect you. I don’t know why, okay?”

Emma did know and the reason was way too much to digest. Right now, all she wants to do is sit down in her room with Regina and play some black jack until she’s run out of truths to tell and can start offering clothes as payments. But Regina isn’t sold on ambiguity.

“God,” Regina growls, “Was this pity? I’m the sad, lonely, pitiful damsel in distress you feel obligated to protect for your good conscience?”

“No. Damn it, Regina, you know me better than that.” The station is only a block away but Emma still feels tense, like someone’s following behind or watching them.

Regina doesn’t notice. She keeps trying to rip her arm from Emma’s grip. “Do I? We shared a bedroom and some truths but you’re so distant and unwilling to open up, Emma. Trusting is difficult to begin with but you’re not making this any easier!”

A wisp of anger shoots down Emma’s spine but it’s muted compared to the pure hurt. “You know more about me than anyone else on this earth and that’s been really fucking hard for me. You think it was easy telling you about Nadine and the Brotherhood? I’m trying with you and that means something, but if you think I’m being stubborn and cold, then I guess you really don’t know me after all.”

“Emma...” Regina’s expression falls, the fight draining from her body, but Emma doesn’t see it. She instead drops her hold and starts walking ahead.

Emma sighs, calming down now that there’s distant between them. She knows they’re both such complex women and sometimes they’ll clash. Hell, their arguments get so heated they almost end in bloodshed or a make out session, though they’ve managed to avoid doing either.

“Listen, I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. I have my reasons for being so cautious, and maybe I’ll tell you all about them if you manage to best me in the next hand, alright?” Emma smiles tentatively but it dims when she gets no response. “Regina?”

She turns to see a bustling crowd and, shit, no Regina. She cups her hand around her mouth and calls out, “Regina?!”

She’s about to scream again when there’s a light tug on her cloak. There’s a boy at her feet with sandy brown hair, adorable green eyes, and dirt smudged all over him. He looks so severe as he whispers, “They took her! Look!”

He points across the street and, fuck, Regina’s being forcibly dragged away by two Templar brutes. Her muscular legs are kicking against the pavement and her squirming is making them lose their grip on her. She doesn’t even think before she’s running across the block and tackling one brute to the ground. Regina takes the distraction to slip out of her borrowed cloak and out of sight while the second brute rounds on Emma.

She bashes the first guys skull against the pavement until he’s unconscious then narrowly avoids a meaty hand coming toward by rolling to the left. The brute growls and, in his blind anger, lunges again, hitting Emma square on the chest with enough force to knock her back down. She grunts but ignores the pain in favor of scrambling away, crawling back on her hands. He pulls a knife from his belt with a sinister chuckle.

“You little bitch, I should cut out your tongue and send it to those street rat twins you side with!” He swipes at her and nicks her on the cheek. She hisses but keeps moving away. She can’t reach for her knife without alerting him and she can’t get up with him looming over her. She kicks at his legs to no avail. He swipes again, missing this time.

But he’s done playing games. He lifts his hand up, positioning the knife right over her heart, then clutches the weapon with both hands. “Any last words, assassin?”

“Go to hell!” Because of course she can’t control her rebellious side in a high-stress time like this. He growls again, deep and garbled and angry, and lifts his hands to gain momentum—a pipe flies above their heads and clanks against his bald head with so much ferocity she cringes.

He freezes and his eyes cross then he’s falling toward her with that knife still poised to kill when she’s suddenly jerked out from under him by a soft hand. “Emma!”

And there’s Regina, standing with one hand coiled around Emma’s bicep and the other limply holding on to a bloody metallic pipe. “Holy shit, you... holy shit! Can’t protect myself, my ass!”

“If you recall, I had an assist.” Regina replies demurely.

Regina lets go of her bicep to offer a hand in getting up and Emma gladly takes it, mostly because she’s running on adrenaline and doesn’t really care about seeming weak. She wipes at her cloak to dislodge pieces of pavement that embedded themselves in it but her eyes stay glued to Regina’s shy features. “You came back for me...”

“Of course,” Regina states it like fact. “I find I’d like to continue knowing you, Miss—Emma.”

Before Emma can even start dissecting that, the little boy runs up to them, his eyes round and wide with amazement. “Woah, you got them!”

“We got them.” Emma gestures between the three of them and the kid looks ready to jump out of skin in his exuberant excitement. At Regina’s curious glance, she explains, “He got my attention and told me where they had taken you.”

“And who is this heroic ally?” Regina crouches so she’s on his eye level and he immediately grins at her, like he knows her from another life or something. And suddenly Regina seems breathless as a small, but very warm, smile grows on her lips.

“My name’s Henry!” He says. Regina gasps under her breath at the name but he doesn’t notice. Emma does and catches Regina’s hand to squeeze comfortingly. He’s still smiling as he points at the large building across the street, the one they were passing as they argued earlier. “Those jerks make me work at that factory! But I saw them leave—they never leave us alone cause then we might escape—so I followed them and saw what they were doing!”

“You did good, kid.” Emma boasts, making Henry preen and Regina snort at his smug look. She thinks of asking about his parents but she knows most child laborers are orphans that need the money and holds her tongue. He looks like an orphan too, with dirty clothes, mismatched socks, and disheveled and greasy hair. No one watches out for this kid and Emma feels a tug in her chest that she studiously ignores in favor of clutching Regina’s hand and pulling her to stand. “Hey, we should get going. Their buddies will come check on them soon.”

Regina can’t take her eyes off of Henry and Emma just knows what’s coming next before the cogs in Regina’s head even start fully turning.

“The twins would kill me, Regina.” Emma interrupts before she can even say anything. Evie and Jacob have managed to accept Regina’s presence on the train but a kid that probably has loose lips? They’d never allow it. “We can’t.”

“Emma...” Regina sees Henry’s observant stare and turns to give them privacy. “He’s all alone out here and he just saved me from Templars. They will discipline him for that. I can’t, in good conscience, let him walk away when we know he’ll have a target on his back too.”

“They won’t let him on the train.”

“So lets go somewhere else!” Regina pleads in a low voice. “Please, I can’t spend another second on that rattling death trap. Perhaps we could use the safe house Nolan and Marian declined?”

A part of Emma is screaming to say no, to take Regina and hide her away until the threat is gone, to not worry about this kid, who seems to be doing alright for himself despite his situation, but the biggest part of her is telling her to follow this woman to the ends of the earth if need be.

Emma sighs, defeated. Henry waits expectantly but Regina smiles that warm, warm smile, knowing she’s won this hand. “Hey, kid. How would you like a nice bed, hot water, and some dinner?”

~|SQ|~

The safe house is surprisingly clean and well stocked considering it hasn’t been used in years. Evie must pass by to upkeep once in a while, which Emma’s grateful for since she’s not exactly a fan of tidying up, especially if the mess isn’t even hers. They’d have to keep it neat though. That’s probably why Evie looked so relieved when she told her they’d be staying here. Less work for her.

Henry asks to bathe the minute they arrive and both women are happy to see him scrub that grime off. He was emitting quite the odor. Then Regina magically cooks up a solid meal from the scarce ingredients that had been in the pantry and Henry scarfs it down like he hasn’t eaten in days, which is a distinct possibility, while Regina sips on the stew so daintily that Emma can’t decide if she finds it endearing or aggravating.

After the dishes are washed and dried, Emma sends the brunettes up to the third floor where there’s two bedrooms with full accommodations. She tells Regina to leave her luggage, that she’ll lug it up when she’s done checking all the windows and door to make sure they’re closed and secure, but when she turns to head up, the suitcase is gone.

“Bullheaded.” Emma scoffs. Deep down, she finds it just as endearing as the dainty soup sipping.

She climbs the three long flights of stairs and pops her head into the nearest doorway to see Henry jumping on the mattress and squealing under his breath. Emma can’t muffle her laugh and Henry trips over the duvet when he hears her mirth, landing soundly on the plush mattress and grinning like a fool.

“How you doing, kid?” Emma asks. In lieu of a verbal answer, Henry throws up two thumbs up and a toothy grin. “I’m glad. Get some sleep, alright?”

He’s scrambling to get under the covers as she softly shuts the door and walks down the hallway toward the second bedroom on this floor. Regina’s already in bed, snuggled up to the plush pillows and smiling at her from the right side of the bed, and Emma whips off her clothes, leaving her in a tank top and red panties.

Regina’s cheeks are suddenly as red as her panties and Emma feels way too smug about it. Even after weeks of seeing Emma in varying states of undress, Regina continues to embarrass herself by acting like a blushing virgin every time but she’s decided to revel in it tonight, to let Emma see just how much she wants her, to hope the same desire will be reflected back.

The unabashed hunger Emma sees in this brown eyes makes her heart race and her fingers stumble as they pull back the duvet and slide in beside the brunette. She hadn’t been expecting anything like this. Regina is a sensual person that can make anything seem sexual and has the ability to insert innuendo into any conversation, so their flirtation never felt serious. Well, it felt damning for Emma because she wanted it to mean more than it probably meant to Regina. But now, in this dark bedroom, with a beautiful half-naked woman she’s shockingly fond of, surrounded by warm sheets and the scent of apples, Emma can’t help but wonder if she’s been blind to Regina’s true intentions.

“Emma,” Regina mumbles, though her tone is still suggestive, “It’s chilly.”

The come warm me up is silent but rings through Emma’s mind until she can’t even think of anything else and cuddles up to the older woman, pressing tightly against her until they can feel every dip and curve. Regina sighs like she just slipped off those high heeled shoes she wears to feel powerful and Emma revels in having Regina so close. Close enough to see every wrinkle and admire that small scar on Regina’s upper lip.

Oddly enough, despite the perpetual danger she was in, Regina never felt safer than she does in Emma’s arms. An assassin’s arms. The irony had her chuckling under her breath.

Emma’s fingers press down against her hip. “What’s so funny, your majesty?”

“Nothing, dear.” The brunette sighs through an amused smile. “I’m simply content.”

Then Regina’s hand skims over Emma’s cheek with a gentle care and that smile loses all humor and becomes lined with something soft and indescribable. If Emma wasn’t an eternal pessimist, she might call it affection. The intimacy is almost too much and Emma’s eyes slip shut under the weight of it, so she doesn’t notice Regina leaning in until their lips are touching, softly, with anxious hesitance and unsure movements.

It’s just their lips pressed against one another’s until Emma throws caution to the wind and deepens the kiss. Her lips open to take Regina’s lower lip between hers. She sucks, hard, and the brunette whimpers quietly. Then it’s like something is ignited in them, because Regina pushes Emma onto her back forcefully to straddle her hips and Emma starts clawing at Regina’s bra until the damn thing is hanging off her shoulders, and everything is growls and moans and desperately hungry.

“Emma.” Regina chants her name as she circles her tongue around a distended nipple then bites down gently. The older woman’s hips are gyrating against Emma’s thighs until their both ready to combust.

It’s not long after that Emma’s fingers are dipping into Regina’s panties and rubbing across a pulsing clit, over and over and over until Regina starts crying out under her breath. The sight of Regina mid-ecstasy makes her slick with arousal but she keeps moving her fingers, in a circle then up and down then in a circle. But Regina’s pelvis keeps gyrating and Emma just knows what she needs, so she slides her fingers down and pushes into Regina until she’s knuckle deep.

“God, yes.” Regina hisses. Her hips start thrusting in time with Emma’s efforts and it’s so sensual that Emma feels her heart pumping fiercely against her ribcage.

Their pace keeps steady and it doesn’t take long before Regina’s bouncing on her fingers and biting on her lips to keep her moans quiet. Regina’s tan hands latch onto Emma’s pale breasts and squeeze as she rides.

Then she freezes, her hips jerking and her hands tightening until Emma grunts as she shakes and shakes. And, fuck, it’s the single sexiest sight she’s ever seen. She’s surrounded by Regina, with her finger being clenched by the brunettes inner muscles and coated in her come and her aromatic perfume wafting around them and intermingling with the pure scent of sex. Emma’s addicted already.

Regina looks satiated with half-hooded eyes and a dopey smirk that screams mischief, and Emma wishes she could burn this moment into her memory.

There isn’t a vestige of regret between them, maybe because this has been a culmination of weeks of flirting and falling or maybe because it just feels right. This—having dinner and putting the kid to bed and being tangled together in the sheets and making love—felt right. It should scare the shit out of Emma but it’s not terrifying and it isn’t making her want to run.

It’s making her want to stay. It’s making her want to put down roots, roots that just may include the brunette entrepreneur and friends and an orphan boy, and for once in her goddamn life... the thought of permanence makes her smile.

Regina doesn’t question it. She simply smiles back, cups Emma’s cheeks, and places a sweet kiss on stretched lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: The title of this story comes from Assassin’s Creed: Origins. Aya calls the Brotherhood “tempests of blood poetry” in her letter to Bayek :)

The early morning glow came through the curtains as the two women remained entangled, limbs entwined and arms encircling each others’ warm bodies. They innocently caressed skin and prayed the small boy down the hall would sleep in and let them bask in this.

“Favorite color?” Emma whispers into the crown of Regina’s head.

“Blue, but especially the lightest shade.” Regina answers, her breath skittering across Emma’s chest.

They spent most of the night giving and receiving pleasure then sunk into each other to sleep for a few hours. They were awoken by the loud clicking of the horses drawing their carriages and now lay still, with Regina draped across Emma, cocooned in the duvet.

“How about you, dear?” Regina throws the question back and Emma doesn’t even have to think about it.

“Yellow. It reminds me of the sun flowers that were planted right outside my bedroom window at my first orphanage.”

These questions seem so trivial in light of the deeper subjects they dove into yesterday morning while playing cards, but it had a way of soothing them.

“You like horses, right?” Emma asks, her fingers dipping into the crevice at the small of Regina’s back, causing a small shiver.

“I used to ride, won several accolades for my talent, but it was much deeper than that. Horses were an escape. They’re beautiful, soulful creatures.” Regina props her chin on Emma’s plump breast to volley the question. “Have you ever ridden?”

“Not horses.” Emma responds cheekily with a salacious wiggle of her eyebrows, earning a snort and a small smack to her bicep. Regina got to witness Emma’s riding skills firsthand the night before and she has to bite to her lip to suppress the moan that bubbles up at the images bombarding her.

Before Regina can say anything else, they hear a quiet creak from down the hall and jolt into a sitting position. Emma calls out, “Henry?”

“Yeah?” They hear his reply even though it’s severely muffled by the bedrooms heavy wooden door.

“Go to the kitchen, dear. We’ll be down soon to make breakfast.” Regina tells him. They hear an excited squeal then his quick stomps down the staircases. Regina snickers, “He’s quite eager.”

“Yeah, I feel his pain.” Emma smiles, but it’s sad and embarrassed. “Orphanages do their best but they aren’t exactly stocked like Buckingham.”

Regina’s chest constricts at the thought of a young Emma malnourished and unsure of when her next meal would come. But she slaps on a lighthearted smile in return and says, “Well, I’ll just have to whip up a feast then.”

The rest of the morning is full of laughter and warmth. Regina makes an egregious amount of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, and serves them gigantic portions that both orphans inhale before Regina can even pick up her fork. They dive into their second helpings just as Regina swipes a cloth across her lips and stands to take her dirty plate to the basin in the kitchen. As she scrubs the surface with a rag, she listens to the orphan boys giggles and Emma’s deeper chuckles and hums with content.

If someone had told her two months ago that she’d be cohabiting with a female assassin and a talkative orphan boy whose loose lips saved her life, she would have snarled at them and had them committed. Strangely, though, the moment feels perfect.

It’s a feeling she shakes off immediately. Hope has never been her ally.

“Penny for those thoughts, your majesty?”

“Hmm,” Regina smirks as lithe hands wrap around her hips and squeeze teasingly, “I’ll sell them for a dollar, Miss Swan.”

Emma smirks, places a quick kiss to Regina’s exposed shoulder, then places two sets of plates and cutlery in the soapy water in the basin. She grabs a dry rag from the drawer and starts to wipe down the ceramic Regina has already rinsed. It’s extremely domestic and while it usually would’ve made Emma want to bolt, she instead felt quite settled and relaxed. Regina, though, has been searching for a partner, a best friend, a lover, ever since she was a teenage girl being scolded for staring at her attractive maid with too much longing. Yet she still feels anxious about this situation.

They made love last night, for hours on end, whispering sweet-nothings to one another as fingers thrusted and mouth met, but it could’ve been a simple release of tension for the blonde. If it was, Regina didn’t want her hopes to get too high before they were viciously cut down.

“Emma, about last—“ Regina is interrupted by a knock on the front door and snaps her mouth shut. Emma groans, frustrated that this conversation is taking the back burner for now, and throws the brunette an apologetic glance before going to answer the door.

She finds Evie and Jacob waiting patiently on the stoop. The older twin flashes her fetching smile at Emma. “Hello, Swan. Everything in order?”

Jacob flicks his top hat off his head and catches it as it descends. He smirks. “Well, the safe house isn’t up in flames so Miss Mills must be keeping blondie in line, sister.”

“Get inside before someone spots you, smart ass.” Emma grabs Jacob by his bicep and drags him inside while Evie trails behind them looking way too amused.

The older English woman points to the staircase. “Shall we have a talk?”

“Yeah, sure. Head up. I’ll join you in a second.”

The twins make their way upstairs as Emma turns back to the kitchen to see Henry peeking around the doorway and Regina smirking over her shoulder at the little boys lack of stealth. Emma pointedly quirks a brow at Regina, though it’s undermined by the slight upward tick of her lips, as she says, “I’m going upstairs. You mind watching him?”

It’s code for make sure he doesn’t follow and, luckily, Regina understands. As Emma heads up, she can hear her lover trying to convince Henry to help her with a puzzle. He’ll bite. He’s just as enamored with Regina as Emma is.

Her eagerness to pass on the information from Nolan tears her away from the two downstairs and she hurries to join the twins in the second floor study, where Jacob is already lounging on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table and Evie is pacing the length of the room.

While it’s not surprising to see the older woman so high-strung, Emma worries her bottom lip, feeling like she’s entering the principles office. “So, uh, what’s got Evie wearing out the hardwood?”

Jacob smirks boyishly and twirls his knife between his fingers. “She’s a bit more tense than usual, I’m afraid. She sent her boyfriend packing because daddy dearest once told us that emotion hinders performance in this business. Don’t mind her—“

“Must you always be so insufferable?” Evie growls under her breath but keeps pacing. Emma quirks a brow.

Jacob skips over the insult. “We paid Nolan a visit this morning in hopes of acquiring the next list of Templar bounties we could round up and he mentioned seeing you yesterday. Said something about the location of Whale’s new office.”

And, well, shit. She probably should’ve followed that lead but she’d been busy getting Regina and Henry settled into the safe house and the tidbit of information slipped her mind.

Emma snaps out of her thoughts when Evie stops pacing and stomps the heel of her boot on the ground. Jacob is still blathering on, “—thought we’d drop by and see if another cog in the Templar machine has been disabled, as it were.”

She sheepishly grits her teeth and paws at the nape of her neck. “Yeah, about that—“

“Emma.” Evie looks so disappointed and disgruntled that Emma bristles. “You didn’t follow up on this lead? What, were you too busy playing house?”

The words sting and Emma squares up but, before she can open her mouth, Jacob jumps between them, his hands lifted into a placating gesture. Emma breathes, in and out, three times before shoving past the younger twin to stand toe-to-toe with a visibly agitated Evie.

“What’s your problem?” Emma asks gruffly, making Evie swallow harshly and dart her eyes around the room, anywhere but toward Emma. It’s an evasive tactic, Emma knows, and she softens. Something wasn’t right with the elder twin.

“Follow the lead.” Evie eventually says. She stalks out of the room, stomping down the stairs then out of the house with a resounding door slam. Jacob smiles at her, though it’s coated with sympathy and sadness.

“She’s struggling, Em. It’s not you.” He says as he reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. “Mister Green was injured last night, she blamed herself for getting too close to him, and sent him away. She’s fighting what you’re embracing and I suppose it’s a bit difficult for her to digest.”

His explanation siphons the last ounce of anger she has in her body. Mister Green and Evie were partners and it was obvious to everyone that the two harbored infatuations toward the other, but Evie is worse than Emma was. She took the bitter words her father uttered in his mourning of his wife to heart and stays away from love or any other serious attachment. Emma recently learned it’s impossible to live that way but Evie is fighting that realization and losing.

“I’m going to pay Whale a visit.” Emma says after a minute. “I’ll take care of it, alright? Just plaster his face on out assassination board.”

“Break one of his fingers for me, dear.”

He exits just as swiftly as his sister but Emma isn’t left alone for long. She feels a presence standing in the doorway behind her and smiles.

“Did you finish the puzzle?”

“Henry’s diligently working on it.” Regina steps closer, her arms crossed, her fingers digging into the fabric of her loose blouse. “We’ve been distracting you.”

“No.” Emma sighs at Regina’s knowing look. “Okay, yes, but I like being distracted by you guys. I really was going to follow up on the Whale lead today. I just wanted to get him settled and comfortable.”

“Hmm, it took you a little over a month to even find out where Whale is, which, from what I’ve heard, is uncharacteristic of you.” Regina reaches for Emma’s hand and delicately winds her fingers with pale ones. “Once you take down Gold, life will change and we’ll have a new life to pursue...” Regina hesitates but is encouraged by the bright sheen in Emma’s eyes. “I’m not sure what your plans are—“

“They involve you.” Emma interrupts. “They have for a while now. At least I hope they will.”

“I would like nothing more.” Regina’s voice is small, quiet in the ringing silence, but full of warmth that wraps around them.

They linger a little while longer, silent but speaking volumes louder with shy, mirthful glances and light touches. The two women descend back downstairs when Henry starts calling out to them, wanting to show off his success with the puzzle of Big Ben.

“Nicely done, my dear.” Regina coos as her fingers gently comb through his light brown hair. Henry flashes his toothy grin at the praise and milks the affection until Emma interrupts.

“I’m going to head out.” She looks at Regina meaningfully. “Stay inside and keep the windows covered. Lock the door behind me.”

She drags her feet the whole way over to Whale’s new hiding spot, which is uncharacteristic for Emma, to say the least. She always enjoyed missions of stealth and intel gathering, but she hasn’t felt that same excitement and passion for this job as she once did. Maybe it’s Regina or maybe she’s just maturing but she’s become tired of working in the shadows, destroying lives, and constantly looking over her shoulder.

This empty, conflicted feeling stays with her as she creeps into the factory where Nolan said Whale was set up and hides in his newly furnished office to wait him out. He arrives fifteen minutes later, looking skittish and agitated as he paces and persistently wipes his hands over his pinstripe suit.

He’s murmuring under his breath to a lackey thats standing by the door and Emma leans closer to the closet door to eavesdrop.

“Gold has been on our asses since the incident at the plant! We can’t let this drag us down, you hear me? I don’t care what you have to do, get those machines running!” Whale hisses and his lackey stumbles away from him, presumably to deal with whatever issue has Whale panicking.

Emma smirks. The poor bastard. She’d feel bad if he weren’t complete scum.

“And you! Come here!” Whale crooks his finger and summons a man Emma hasn’t seen before, though his clothes are too refined for him to be a simple lackey. He’s dressed to the nines and has a large velvet top hat on his head, his eye lids darkened with some kind of shadowy color, like he smeared coal around them.

“Relax, Victor, would you?” The man drawls, which seems to agitate Whale even more.

“How could I possibly relax, Jefferson? Gold already threatened to oust us last week and now these damn machines aren’t producing and you can’t seem to find Miss Mills!”

“Regina will slip up and show herself, but, honestly, who cares about that broad? She hasn’t stirred any trouble anyway.” The dude with the top hat—Jefferson—reminds Whale before striding into the office and shutting the door behind him.

“Gold cares.” Victor sighs, deflating slightly under Jefferson’s easy going attitude. “He’s worried she’ll show up at Buckingham for the soirée and stir up trouble.”

“He needs to think clearly about this. If Regina shows up and causes a ruckus, there’ll be less focus on the comings and goings.” Jefferson plops down on the plush office chair, winking at Whale’s disgruntled frown. “It’s not as if she has any clue what will happen that night. Besides, you think she’d actually cause trouble with Queen Victoria milling around?”

“Even if your logic is sound, Robert clearly stated he—“

“Yes, yes, I’m aware. He wants Mills dead.” Jefferson’s broad grin has Emma curling her fingers into a fist. “She’ll show her face eventually and I’ll make sure she’s taken care of, even if I don’t quite understand his obsession with her when he should be targeting those Frye twins.”

The lanky man stands and sways past his miffed ally to stride out the door, leaving Whale to trail behind him with a huff. Only then did Emma squeeze through the closet door quietly and escape the premises undetected.

She can’t take Whale out now that she knows there’s an attack coming. It would raise too many suspicions and possibly make Gold change his plans.

She makes her way to the nearest train station and waits until the Frye locomotive pulls up an hour later. She finds Jacob tacking up a photo of Philip Twopenny, the governor of the Bank of England, to the assassination wall.

“Eh, back so soon?” Jacob smirks, turning to her with a wink. “So, which finger did you break on my behalf?”

Emma shook her head. “None. Where’s Evie?”

“Right here.” Evie walks into the rail car still looking slightly agitated, just like this morning, and Emma decides cutting to the chase is probably her best bet.

“I was going to take Whale out when I overheard him talking to someone named Jefferson, who apparently also works for Gold. They’re planning something for the soirée at Buckingham.”

Evie steps closer, her face less pinched, and Jacob sighs, like his worst fears have been confirmed.

“Yes, I’ve heard rumblings of a rumor similar to that. Mister Disraeli and his wife—you know, he’s a politician?— told me as much. They even offered to have invitations stolen for us, sister.”

“Hmm, our presence is required if Gold plans to enact some scheme at the party. We will, however, secure those invitations ourselves. Mister Disraeli would be compromising himself further by showing a blatant favorability to our cause.” Evie muses aloud.

“Should I dust off the only dress I own?” Emma cautiously asks, not really looking forward to a grand ball hosted by the country’s leading elitist.

“No.” Evie blurts. At Emma’s wounded expression, the older twin softens. “No, Jacob and I need to finish this on our own. You... You go enjoy your time with your loved ones. We’ll visit the house when it’s over to let you all know it’s safe to leave.”

With that said, Evie twists on her heels and jumps to the front rail car, leaving Emma with a slightly disoriented Jacob. The poor bastard was getting comfortable with these small battles against lackeys and now he’s walking in to a face off with the shadowy figurehead they’ve been chasing for months.

Emma grips his shoulder and squeezes comfortingly. “You and your sister have changed London for the better and I have all the confidence in the world that you’ll end this unscathed.”

Jacob smiles, albeit a bit depressively. “Yes... I’m sure it’ll all be fine. I hope it is. All this talk about Gold and now we’ll be facing him? It’s staggering.” Jacob pauses, his mouth twisting, then his continues with a strained tone, “That man killed my father... and he will rue the day he did. I will make sure of it.”

She knows there’s nothing she can say to calm him down, and she knows there’s no point in trying, because his anger and frustration is justified. Though Emma may never understand the love between child and parent, she sees it clearly every time the twins speak of their departed mother and father, and she knows that love will stop at nothing to get its revenge.

“Be safe, Jacob. I’ll see after it’s over, alright?”

He simply hums, his smile genuine and his gaze loving. That big, lovable oaf better not get himself killed, not after making Emma love him like a brother.

~|SQ|~

When she relays all of the information to Regina later that evening while they’re lounging in bed, the brunette scoffs. “You’re telling me Gold wants to pull some stunt at the grandest event of the year, with the Queen and her hundreds of guards near? He’s deranged but he isn’t suicidal, Emma.”

“I heard Whale and—do you know a Jefferson?”

“He worked for Gold. A strange man, he was.” Regina let’s out a mild chuckle that’s just seeping with disdain. “He would constantly invade my personal space and was an extremely outlandish character. I never understood his position in the organization but Gold seemed to trust him.”

“Well him and Whale basically laid it all out for me as I hid in the closet.” Regina snorts at the phrasing, Emma slaps her thigh. “Stop it.”

“Hmm, I suppose we shall see.” Regina murmurs, still unconvinced that her former employer would be crazy enough to pull such a public attack, even if he’s spiraling out of control with all the disruption Emma and the twins have brought him.

“So, uh, you looking forward to gaining your freedom back?” Emma mumbles. Regina hears the underlying self-deprecation underneath.

“It would be nice to sleep in my own bed again. I bought a high quality mattress, stuffed with coils and feathers, and the duvets are silk. I’m sure you’ll like them quite a bit.”

Emma’s head snaps toward her. “You... You want me to go with you?”

Regina’s hands cup Emma’s blushing cheeks as she smiles at the dopey smile on the blonde’s face. “I told you I want to keep you around, Swan.”

And for the first time in a long time, Emma can’t help but be excited about the future. Then she hears the squeak of a mattress down the hall. “What about him?”

Regina’s smile softens even more, if possible. “He’s a very sweet boy. I’d like him to be a part of our plans.”

And for Regina, Emma thinks she’d do just about anything at this point. “Yeah, okay.” A pause, then, “You should run for Mayor of London.”

Regina scoffs, though not completely incredulous, and Emma adds, “Come on, think about it! You’ll be Mayor and I could work for Nolan. Henry could get an education, because you’re wealthy and the Mayor. We could settle down, maybe?”

Regina wants nothing more than to wipe the uncertainty from Emma’s eyes when she kisses her soundly. She pulls back with a pop and nuzzles their noses.

“Sounds like a plan, Miss Swan.”

“Yeah,” Emma smirks, “So how about we start this with a bang?”

“Idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think this is where I’m leaving it. If you played the games, you know that Evie and Jacob stop the big bad. But for Swan Queen... well, they have a plan! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the story. It was way longer than I expected when I was tossing around the idea on Twitter. I may write an epilogue/sequel one day but I’m not too sure because this story didn’t catch much traction (and I want to write more one shots to improve my writing). 
> 
> Thank you to everyone that has read, given kudos, commented, retweeted my tweets about the story, and/or had conversations with me about it! Much love.
> 
> —Angela


End file.
